


Jardin des Tuileries

by FrangipaniFlower



Series: Fate [1]
Category: Homeland
Genre: AU, And maybe more who knows, F/M, Falling In Love, First Kiss, Friendship, Having Fun Outdoors, Hotel Room Sex, Shower Sex, it's Zeffy's birthday and she asked for fluff and smut, lasagna, spy hunt in Paris
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-19
Updated: 2018-03-01
Packaged: 2018-12-17 05:57:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 4
Words: 24,284
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11845353
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FrangipaniFlower/pseuds/FrangipaniFlower
Summary: An off book mission in Paris, Carrie and Quinn trying to gather Javadi intel.You know what they say about Paris, right? The city of love...Happy Birthday Zeffy!Chapter 4 is new - Happy birtday pinkys!





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zeffy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zeffy/gifts).



> Set in S3. Javadi didn't kill his ex-wife and daughter in law because Quinn and Carrie were there in time. Quinn shot Javadi's leg but Javadi managed to escape. Max, Carrie and Quinn follow him to Paris in an off-book mission, Fara helping them from her desk at Langley. 
> 
> Carrie is not pregnant and not so much obsessed about Brody as she was in canon.

So Paris. 

Another stop on the ride around the globe in the clusterfuck the Javadi operation already was before it somehow stretched over to Europe.

They'd arrived in time at Javadi's ex daughter in law's house and Quinn had managed to place a shot, bad angle and nearly no visual field, plus a civilian in the door jamb, so he had to aim for the lower legs and the motherfucker had managed to get away with it, screeching tires and apparently more help state-site than they'd expected.

Saul furious, Dar somewhere between darkly amused and pissed. So overall it was a good idea to make himself unseen for a while.

And Carrie. Yeah, well, that left Carrie. Who had invaded his mind, his dreams, his thinking deeper than he should have ever allowed.

She was different since that red headed menace was gone for good.

More calm. Less annoying. Not less determined. No, not at all. Quite the opposite.

She was determined to get Javadi and make him and whoever else pay for the Langley bombing. So she dug deep, once more, pulled some favours, made Fara find a trace, honestly just the slightest trace of a trace, more a hunch than anything else, just one transaction which only had appeared on screen for a flicker of a second and then had disappeared again. But this had been enough for Carrie.

She said, she just _knew_.

And surprisingly enough - he believed her. 

So Paris. With Max. And Carrie. More or less off book. With some _resources_ Carrie had been able to acquire with the help of _Pierre_ , her contact in France.

"We go way back," had been her only comment.

_Yeah, of course you do._

But Pierre had set them up with a van, basic equipment, burner phones and two young agents willing to do some leg work during their long weekend off.

Mute Max had been mute, as usual, but after he'd been away for three hours he came back and suddenly they had ears in Javadi's hotel room and a bug in his phone.

So, nightshift now. With Max. Because Carrie was busy with her self proclaimed role as _liaison officer_. Quinn had a not so vague idea what that might include.

That Javadi spent the evening taking a break from plotting terrorist attacks but relaxed a little with the help of two high end escorts he'd ordered earlier to his room didn't really help to to stop him from thinking about what Carrie might be doing right now.

"He has stamina."

"What?"

_The mute. Not so mute today._

"Javadi. This is at least round three. Four maybe. Depending if the girls take turns or-"

"I don't fucking care. Let me set this clear: I. Don't. Fucking. Care. How. Many. Times. Javadi. Fucks. These. Girls."

"Fine."

"Fine."

But now he couldn't stop wondering. Which added another layer of disgust to his already not so great mood.

"You do that often?", Max went on.

"What? Offbook missions in befriended countries?"

"No. Invading people's privacy."

The van door being opened that very moment spared Quinn an answer. 

_Carrie._

With a breeze of warm summer air, a bag with food containers and a ponytail.

_A fucking ponytail._

"Pleasant soundtrack," she quipped, unpacking the food and searching for some space to place the open boxes and plastic cutlery.

"What are you doing here. We thought you-," but then Quinn swallowed the second half of the sentence, busying himself with opening the small bottles Carrie produced from her bag.

To his surprise Max suddenly felt he had to chime in a thought too.

"You thought. I didn't."

"The fuck?"

"What's this about? Max?"

"I think _he_ thinks," a nod towards Quinn, "that you were fucking this guy. But I know you met him in Kabul, he's married and-"

"As if _marriage_ ," Quinn interrupted him, his voice strained, suddenly feeling an enormous need to step out of the van and just leave, "ever was an-"

"Just don't Quinn. Just the fuck don't."

Quinn wasn't sure but was there a small smug grin sitting in the corners of Max' mouth?

They fell silent, the crescendo of moans from Javadi's hotel room the only sound filling the van, making Quinn feel too wired.

But he forced himself to sit on his stool and eat.

"We'll have a stingray tomorrow. And four more agents for following Javadi, so they can form two teams of two, taking turns. He made a reservation for two for tomorrow night at the restaurant on top of the Eiffel Tower. So, Quinn, date tomorrow night? Fine dining, excellent view?"

Quinn was about to pop an olive into his mouth and missed by about an inch, startled by Carrie's question.

Max had the guts to chuckle as Carrie bent slightly over and picked the olive from his lap and popped in her own mouth.

_Once more, Max, and you and I have some business to settle._

"He knows us."

"That's kind of a lame excuse when a lady is asking you out."

He knew it was a mistake the second he opened his mouth, her face already showed a hurt expression before he formed the first word, she knew what he was going to say and yet he couldn't hold it back.

"A lady? Don't see one here."

"Makes us a match. As I don't see a gentleman here. We'll dress up. Wig, fake mustache, heavy makeup, whatever. Certainly you did that before in your four years of clandestine field work as an analyst and field agent in Venezuela, right Quinn? Or would you prefer to have dinner with Max? Or wait, you were hoping one of our new team members might have a previous career as nurse? Sorry to disappoint. You're stuck with me. Make sure to buy a suit."

And with that, she returned her attention to her stuffed eggplant and Quinn forced himself to look at his food, his face expressionless, and to start eating.

Suddenly Carrie raised her head again, staring at him, a determined expression on her face.

"What?"

"Shhht", she paused, apparently listening, "God, what the fuck, you morons."

"What?"

"Don't you hear it? That's a tape. He's not in that room, fucking those girls like a rabbit, that's a tape. The sounds, the _exact_ sounds repeat after a minute. It's a loop."

"Fuck me."

"Huh?"

"I wouldn't take that as invitation, Max, I don't think Quinn was technically asking you to-"

"That motherfucker," Quinn seethed through clenched teeth as he checked his watch, "nearly three hours. His phone? Max?"

"No movement. It's in that room."

"Of course it is you idiots. Really. You've been listening to that audio porn for almost three hours without noticing-"

"Quinn's specialized on sound patterns made by y-"

"Max."

_One word. A fair warning. Carrie and Brody in a hotel room. His all team witnessing how that agitated him. He still heard those sounds when he-_

"Fine. Let's call it a night," Carrie's voice interrupted this particular train of thought.

"What?"

"That's it. No need to sit here all night for the three of us. He won't come back too soon and we have no chance to trace him without his phone."

Quinn got up, adjusted his holster, checked the magazine of his glock, and slipped in his jacket, covering the holster.

"I’ll go in."

"Quinn. We are not here to confront him. We are collecting evidence to nail-"

"And what the fuck do you think I am doing? Javadi's room, even if he probably won't spend the night there, but at least his fucking phone will. So I'll get us the data. Excuse me."

And with that he pushed past her, the back of the van was so narrow that he brushed along her back, smelling a faint sweet scent - shampoo maybe - for a fraction of a second before he pushed the door open and left with a few long steps.

"Quinn. Wait."

He was already around the corner when he heard her voice and rapid steps behind him.

_Carrie._

"I'm coming with you. Don't have a weapon though."

"I don't intend to use mine. Let's go."

"Front entrance?"

"Any better idea?"

"Yes. Come."

Ten minutes later they arrived on the seventh floor, after Carrie had led him through a trap door and the hotel's ancient cellar, and then to a laundry and staff lift, bringing them to the eighth floor, from which they took a set of stairs downstairs and arrived on the floor of Javadi's suite through a door hidden in the tapestry.

Carrie knocked on the door next to Javadi's and when nobody answered, she produced a set of pick locks from her pocket and opened the door, quickly crossing the room and opening the balcony door.

She was back next to him in less than thirty seconds, carefully closing the door behind her.

Quinn hoped they wouldn't need the escape route but who the fuck knew what would happen, and he appreciated Carrie's calm and determined handling of the situation.

He handed Carrie his weapon before he opened Javadi's door and she slipped through the door right behind him, closing the padded door gently while handing him a pair of plastic gloves.

"Carrie," he said with a low voice, bending his head to be closer to her, "if shit hits the fan, I want you to leave as soon as you can. Don't take more risk than absolutely necessary. I'll find my own way then."

There was a briefcase hidden in the wardrobe, few clothes, a laptop charger but no laptop.

Quinn managed to pick the briefcase’s locks, calculating the loss of time this act might cost him.

He took photos of the pages he found in the folders, and then closed it again, checking in on Carrie with a brief glance.

Then he searched the room for the phone. Apparently Javadi really did use the room to stay here,  
there were clothes and toiletries,  
a dictionary and a box of condoms on the nightstand, the bed was used, a bottle of champagne and three glasses on the coffee table.

_Well, he had to record the tape first._

Quinn found the phone neatly placed behind some crisp white shirts in the wardrobe and carefully pressed the external hard drive into connector, waiting for it to copy the data.

Carrie waited, pressed against the wall behind the door, observing the floor through the door ajar, hoping Javadi wouldn't return anytime soon.

She didn't hear Quinn behind her back, he was moving silently and efficiently.

Chances were, they could finish here and disappear long before Javadi would be back.

When her phone vibrated, she knew they were fucked, only Quinn and Max had that number so far.

_Javadi just entered the hall. Spilled my drink on his pants. Gives you about 3 minutes._

"Quinn. Javadi's coming in three."

"Fuck."

"Yeah."

"How long for the data?"

"Dunno. A minute. Maybe two."

Carrie checked the hallway, found it empty, and moved to the chambermaid's trolley she'd spotted next to the elevator.

The elevator was moving down already.

_Fuck._

Taking a box of macaroons and a clean bedsheet, she unlocked the wheels and pushed the trolley in front of the elevator doors and locked the wheels again, _ten, maybe twenty seconds more_.

Then she ran back to the room, Quinn was still waiting for the data transfer to finish, quickly changed the sheets, hoping Javadi wouldn't notice this wasn't her specialty, and placed the box of macaroons on his pillow.

"What the fuck are you doing? Fear he won't sleep well?"

"Nope. Pretending his room got already made up for the night, by the chambermaid. And she was the one who forgot to close the balcony door."

She moved over to the window and closed the heavy brocade draperies, just when a faint _pling_ announced the elevator's arrival.

With a few long and hurried strides she was at the door and closed it softly, Quinn's gun in her hand, the security switch already off.

"You have a silencer at the ready or shall we leave?"

"Positive. Done here. Let's move."

Quinn unplugged the drive, carefully put the phone back in position, closed the sliding door and followed Carrie to the balcony. Carrie heard him taking a deep breath when she jumped back into the room to secure the used bedsheets, and then she retrieved towards the curtains, felt his hand around her upper arm, pulling her out on the balcony, just when the door to the suite opened and Javadi entered the room.

Quinn offered her a leg up to climb the parapet and hoisted himself up after she landed with a soft _thud_ on the other side.

Thirty seconds later they were in the elevator downstairs, the windows of the neighboring suite closed, the bedsheets disposed in the bin stored on the chambermaid's trolley.

Carrie adjusted the security switch of Quinn's revolver and handed it back to him, and he secured it back in his holster, rolling his shoulders with a crack just when the doors opened and they stepped into the lobby.

From the corner of her eye Carrie saw Max raising from his fauteuil in the piano bar, following them into the warm summer night.

He caught up with them when they reached the river banks and mingled with the crowd, tourists and locals taking a stroll, couples holding hands, groups sitting at the quay and sharing a bottle of wine or a few beers.

For a brief moment Carrie felt a strange longing, envying these civilians for their carefree happiness on a beautiful summer evening. A couple caught her attention, they walked in the crowd, holding hands, and then the woman said something and the man laughed and put his arm around her shoulder.

Snapping herself out of the moment, she turned to look for Max, noticing that Quinn was watching the same couple she had been observing just seconds ago.

"What now? Any plans?"

"No. Javadi won't make another move tonight and if he does, we'll know. I placed a micro camera in his room, it monitors the door area. As soon as there's movement, I'll know," Quinn replied, briefly touching the chest pocket of his jacket where he had his phone.

"I think he already met his contact when he was out tonight. We might not get another chance before tomorrow night", Carrie added.

"Right. Eiffeltower dinner", Max nodded wistfully, "anyway, I'll excuse myself now. Call me if you need me. Otherwise I'll see you for breakfast."

"Max?"

"You're not the only one with _contacts_ here, Carrie."

And with that he left, ambling along the river towards Notre Dame.

"Touché," Quinn had the guts to chuckle but sobered when Carrie eyeballed him, "so?"

"What?"

"Any plans for tonight," his eyebrows went up, "with _Pierre_?"

He knew he was on dangerous ground when he saw Carrie's brow furrowing but to his surprise she let it go and simply shook her head.

"You?"

"I suck at sightseeing," Quinn tried for a lighter mood, suddenly feeling exhausted by the prospect of more Javadi bullshit to be faced over the next few days.

_God damn it, just a few days ago he had Carrie kidnapped under my very eyes and here we are now, fraying and provoking him again._

"Me too," Carrie smiled, insecurely. 

"What do you think about a walk?"

"A walk?"

"Dunno. Just walking to the hotel, going through his files then. Whatever is going to happen, won't happen tonight. Shouldn't be longer than thirty minutes-"

"Quinn. I didn't say we shouldn't. Let's go."

They walked westwards, along the river, towards the Louvre and the large park behind the museum, taking a turn to the right and crossing the large park towards the opposite end.

They didn't talk but walked in amicable silence, and Quinn noticed how the adrenaline had subdued,  
wondering why a simple operation with a relatively low level of risk  
had made him react that way. His heartbeat had been rapid and hammering when they'd left the hotel.

_Knowing that his goons laid hands on her does that. The fucking risks she takes. That, and having failed her that night._

"...must be nice," Carrie finished a sentence, and he'd missed the beginning.

"What did you say?"

Carrie nodded to a group of people coming along their way, followed by a couple holding hands.

"Being _normal_. Laughing, enjoying a summer night. Normal  
life."

"You really want that?"

She gave him a short side glance.

"Sometimes. Not often, but sometimes. At least a break. For an hour or two. Or a day."

Her honesty made him chuckle briefly, knowing her conflicting emotions all too well.

They reached the opposite end of the park, passing a large carousel and walking towards a vintage ferris wheel now, close to the fence which separated the road from the _jardin_.

"Let's have one of those moments right now," Quinn said and - before Carrie could answer - walked towards the platform, bought two tickets and turned back to Carrie, inviting her to join him with a small nod of his head.

Carrie looked at him, incredulous and slightly exasperated, but he decided to ignore any doubts, he himself  
not sure why he'd followed  
that sudden silly idea.

_Touristy and corny._

But slowly levitating upwards, the open gondola gently swinging in the evening breeze, while Paris from above unfolded in front of them didn't feel too wrong.

They could see the Eiffel Tower behind Carrie's back, to his right was the white form of Sacre Coeur, and in his back the lights of the Louvre's pyramid were just being switched on.

Carrie was silent, her eyes taking in the beauty unfolding in front of them, but when the ferris wheel stopped when they were on top, Quinn felt her eyes resting on his face.

He tried to smile when his eyes met hers, and she gave him a small smile in return, moving her hand in his direction, hesitating for a short moment, but then she briefly squeezed his arm.

“Thank you Quinn. This is really beautiful.”

And she was right. It was beautiful. A calm moment after months of turmoil, suddenly and unexpected, just the two of them, away from it all for a few precious moments.

 

They spent the rest of their journey in silence, taking in the view, allowing their minds to rest.

When their gondola stopped, swinging gentle from left to right, Quinn raised first and it was just natural that he offered Carrie his hand to help her to get out and step down.

Carrie had made arrangements for their stay, a hotel in the eighth arrondissement, close enough to walk.

Of course taking a taxi or the metro would have been much faster, but neither of them suggested it and so they just walked, making their way out of the busy historic centre towards the more quiet neighborhood of their hotel.

Following Carrie into her room, Quinn checked her windows, door and bathroom, and conducted a brief search for bugs - eyes and ears - but it seemed like her room was clean. His room was just next door, there was a connecting door, and Max was just a few steps down the hallway.

_Should be fine._

He used his pick locks to unlock the connecting door when Carrie was using the bathroom, and carefully closed the door again, but if shit hit the fan this would spare him a few precious seconds.

They transferred the data to Fara and spent many hours going through the files, and many hours after nightfall an idea started to form and take shape.

Javadi was preparing his escape. This wasn't another malicious attack plan, this was a single man’s carefully planned operation to harvest the fruits of a life of committing and orchestrating the most evil and most despicable crimes.

And they were witnessing the last pieces falling into their respective places.

A few days, maybe not even that, and Javadi would be gone, every trace erased from the earth’s surface.

Fara was the one who saw the patterns, who found some well hidden traces, dead ends and meaningless at the first sight, but revealing the truth as soon as Fara dug deeper and deeper.

Quinn was sure that this wasn't just a young analyst who had worked in the finance sector before, that was someone who really knew the her business, but decided not to draw Fara’s secrets into the light.

_We all have our reasons for secrecy and hiding._

Javadi was here to collect money and execute his exit plan. Maybe selling some  
last intel or organizing a life insurance for himself, placing some intel with trustworthy assets.

It was almost three am when they decided to call it a day, fairly sure that nothing significant would happen before the next day.

Quinn sat in his room and heard Carrie settling for the night next door, water was running, a window was opened and closed again, shoes got kicked away and the sounds of her steps was nearly inaudible now. A while later it was silent, she was probably asleep now.

He poured himself another sip of whiskey, this would be the last one, he wanted to stay awake and alert rather than getting shitfaced, and sat in the dark, listening to the distant sounds of the street seven floors beneath them.

Caracas had been just a few weeks ago, and still he hadn't handed in his resignation. He knew he was hesitating again, procrastinating, because- yeah because of what?

There would always be a next case, another target, another mission requiring his _skill set_. And he was done, he didn't believe in it anymore.

So that left her. Hovering around because of her, trying to protect her from whatever crazy idea Saul would throw at her next, that clusterfuck of her institutionalization still fresh and bitter in his mind.

Quinn checked his phone, Javadi was still asleep, just a butler was moving along the hallway, placing newspapers in small cotton bags at each door knob.

He paused a second longer at Javadi’s door and nestled a moment to take the second next bag from his wrist.

_So that's how someone contacts him. A location, a code, could be anything. Meaningless to anyone who reads it accidentally._

In a way it was ridiculous: One of America’s most wanted, mastermind of the Langley bombing, and now they were witnessing him executing his fallback plan, like a spy’s 101 to retirement. Probably he was dreaming of a bar somewhere in the Caribbean, _Mango Jim’s_ or another tropical fruit.

What was he himself dreaming of? Not much. A night of sleep without a nightmare. Spending a month in the same place. Travelling without planning the next kill. That wasn't enough to fill a life, he knew that.

_But maybe-_

He heard a muffled sound from Carrie's room and was at the connecting door before his mind had processed the potential origin of the noise, pushing the door open while pulling his gun.

Pointing his gun into the room, he only saw Carrie tossing and turning in her sleep, a glass had fallen from her nightstand, and that had caused the sound.

_She's having a nightmare. God, this is so fucked. Gun. Nightmare. Javadi. Just fuck._

Retreat was an option, she was asleep, and he wasn't proud of thinking about it, but then he took a deep breath, slipped the gun back into the holster and carefully kneeled down next to her bed.

“Carrie,” he didn't whisper but tried to speak calm and determined, “it's me. Quinn. Wake up.”

Carrie bolted in an upright position, her eyes darting through the room, coming to rest on his face, her face covered with a sheen of sweat.

“Quinn.”

“Yeah. It's me.”

“Good,” she took a deep breath, trying to calm her breathing but failing.

“Hey,” Quinn slowly put his hand on her shoulder, feeling she was shivering, “you’re awake now.”

Was she safe too? He didn't know.

Carrie leant her head back against the headboard, her hands open and palms up on her blanket, it was a vulnerable posture he found hard to watch.

“You didn't sleep yet?,” she commented on his appearance, still in his grey shirt, with holster.

“No.”

But she was right, it was time to get rid of the weapon which he placed on her nightstand, security switch back in place.

“This isn't normal, right?”

“No. It's not.”

“There's that voice in my head, which keeps telling me that. And for a long time I thought it's maybe not normal but _right_.”

“And now?”

“I don't know Quinn. After Teheran-”

“Yeah.”

“You read the report?”

“I did.”

They were silent for a while, both thinking of the man who’d led them here.

“Was it about that day?”

“My dream? No. I don't dream about a specific incident. I don't _see_ things or relive them, it's more… just being trapped and threatened and not able  
to control anything and knowing that… I bet you know that kind of shit.”

“Yeah.”

“It's not that I don't remember that day though.”

“Of course you do.”

They’d never spoken about that day. Carrie had returned from Iran, he’d tried to reach her, she’d been invisible for about a week, and then one morning he’d spotted her in the Langley parking lot, pale and with a haunted look on her face, walking from her car to the entrance.

The surge of protectiveness he’d felt had nearly knocked the wind out of him.

_Never allow yourself to get attached. And there you have it._

And now he sat on Carrie’s bed, in her hotel room, another summer morning’s dawn casting the first rays of light through the curtains.

“You know, I thought a lot about this. I really did,” Carrie’s voice interrupted his thoughts, “and however I look at it, it's like he was doomed from the very beginning. And nothing we did, I did, made it any better.”

“You blame yourself for this?”

“He was a traitor. But a good man. Before all of that happened.”

“He had no chance. Being where he was,  
for eight years, no way. Carrie, no way, no one comes out of this and is okay.”

“I thought I loved him.”

“And did you?”

Carrie pursed her lips and slowly shook her head.

“Isn't that horrible? I didn't even love him. No. That's not true. For those days and weeks I did. Like a distress flare. Pulling the switch and it goes off in a second, shooting into the sky, bright and glaring, and then it drops dead into the sea.”

“Don't blame yourself for choices he made, Carrie.”

“Did he really have a choice?”

“A choice between a rock and a hard place. But a choice. There's always a choice," Quinn replied with a steady voice.

“He made that choice when he went into Iran,” Carrie stated quietly. 

Quinn just nodded silently. There wasn't anything to add.

After a while he got up and prepared two cups of tea, handing Carrie one when he sat down on the edge of her mattress again.

“It's not coffee. But hot.”

Carrie accepted the warm mug gratefully, eying Quinn over the rim before she lowered her gaze and took the first sip.

She wondered why he hadn't slept, he looked tired, a blue shadow under his eyes and around his chin.

“You didn't sleep?”

“No. Not yet. Might try to get some hours now. Probably nothing significant will happen til tonight. Tell your guys to keep an eye on him. But my bet is he’ll meet his contact tonight, and that will start his money transfers to his paradise destination.” 

Rousing from her bed, he let his gaze rest on her face a second longer, wondering what made it possible for them to have that conversation, honest and real, touching topics which hurt and requested trust.

Carrie watched him disappear through the connecting door, the door softly closed behind him but he didn't lock it,  
and when she heard him settling in his room she curled up in her bed again, her eyes softly closing just when she thought she liked having him so close. 

\-------------------

Quinn slept for solid seven hours, waking up with a start when he noticed a movement in his room.

But it was Carrie, placing a tray with breakfast on his desk, giving him a brief smile.

“Come over when you’re ready. It's time.”

She looked at him for a second longer, a brief flicker of a smile crossing her face again, wondering if he knew she’d watched him in his sleep for a minute or so. 

Quinn joined her and Max ten minutes later, evidently fresh out of the shower, his coffee mug casually in his hand, taking a sip when he entered her room through the connecting door. Max paused for a second, giving Quinn a long look and then frowning at her. 

“What happened so far?”, Quinn inquired and saved her an awkward moment.

“Javadi's been out and about since ten. Musee d’Orsay, batobus, lunch at Place du Vosges, one of the women was with him, no contact so far. Unless she is the contact”, Max summed up.

“So dinner’s our best shot?”

“Yep. All prepared. Reservation. Clothes. Car is ordered for seven.”

“Clothes?”

“Among other things, yes”, Max’s chin point to Carrie’s bed and Quinn saw a dark suit and a red sheath dress, among other wrapped parcels.

They went through all of Javadi’s data again, contemplating over and over again if there was anything they’d missed.

But from whatever angle they looked at it - that guy was preparing his exit plan.

Carrie went to the bathroom at five, taking some of the bags with her, and it took her a good ninety minutes before she reemerged. 

Red dress, silver sandals, brown wig, long hair in a loose updo, some strands softly framing her face. 

Max, fucking Max clapped his hands in an appreciative applause whereas Quinn disappeared into his room, quickly grabbing the dark suit and the bag next to it - and regretting it as soon as he unpacked it in his bathroom.

“Max?”

“Uhm?”

“Did you do the shopping?”

“Why?”

“You know Javadi never saw me?”

“We don't know that for sure,” Carrie joined the conversation, peaking around the bathroom door.

“Did I sneak into your bathroom?”

“That's not the same thing.”

_Fucking fine._

Quinn deliberately ignored her when he stepped out of his slacks and tossed his grey t-shirt into the general direction of the bathtub, leaving him in underwear and socks.

Carrie didn’t bat an eyelid, she kept standing in the door jamb, chatting with Max about Uber cars and if they were reliable.

So he got dressed. White shirt, a little narrow over his chest, but at least the arms were long enough, dark suit, black shoes. Then he unzipped a small bag and started to adjust the fake mustache on his upper lip, well aware of Carrie's grin behind his back.

“Let's go,” he told Carrie when he was done, more curt than he had intended to.

He was halfway through the room towards the door when Max called him back.

“You know you’ll blow this, right?”

“Now you’re losing me.”

“Paris by night. Eiffel Tower. Dinner. That's not a business dinner but a _romantic_ date. So adjust your attitude.”

Quinn was about to shoot back, an acerbic reply, but swallowed when he saw Carrie looking at him, just a second before she bit her lip and looked away, making her way to the door.

“Shall we?”

Quinn stepped in her way, offering her his arm, and after hesitating for a beat Carrie looped her arm through his.

“Carrie’s wired. Don't spill wine on her or my connection will be fucked”, Max called after them before they disappeared.

“You stay awake and keep back up close. Don't worry about the rest.”

“Quinn?”, Max chuckled, “Hell of a mustache. You could almost compete with Saul.”

Apparently satisfied with his own joke, he then took a can of coke from the minibar and walked over to his own room.

Carrie had watched the brief exchange between the two men silently, not commenting on it when she and Quinn walked to the elevator and through the lobby to the waiting car.

\-----------

Tourist hot spot or not, the atmosphere was different from what Quinn had expected. A breathtaking view, the restaurant more quiet and serene than he’d thought, the lights of the city scintillating beneath them once they sat at their allocated near the window in the modern restaurant.

“So Jules Verne finally got his airship”, Carrie smiled when she turned her eyes away from the window, and went on explaining when she saw his raised eyebrows, “the name of the restaurant. Jules Verne. In the 1860s, he envisioned a giant aircraft, lifted aloof by massive propellers, like sails. He basically invented the helicopter. Or what would later become a helicopter.”

There aperitif was served while she spoke and when Quinn raised her glass to her, she paused and looked at him.

“To dreams and hopes,” she said quietly.

“Like Jules Verne’s.”

“Like Jules Verne.”

Quinn saw her freezing in her movement when she looked to a point behind his back, knowing she spotted Javadi when he saw a moment of panic in her eyes.

“Carrie,” he started but what would he tell her? 

_You're safe with me after I failed you last time? He can't get you here, just that the escape route is shitty with just one tiny elevator? Or, don't you worry, I’m  
armed and wouldn’t a shooting in a small restaurant be just what we need tonight?_

So he fell silent, watching her eyes following Javadi to his table across the room, near a large panorama window.

He remembered they were here as a couple, so he stretched his arm over the table and gave her hand a short and hopefully calming squeeze, which Carrie answered with a surprised look.

The restaurant served only a five course menu, fish for Carrie, meat for himself, and they watched the waiter attending Javadi’s table changing duties with a collegue after the second course.

_So this is it. A member of staff._

There wasn't much they could do during dinner, and despite being on constant alert as they _knew_ what this man was capable of, they enjoyed the gorgeous food, the view - and the company.

Carrie had reminded him with a smile, that a couple would chat over dinner when enjoying such a beautiful night out, as it wasn't a place people would go to a week before their divorce, and so they talked. About Carrie’s nieces, Carrie’s last trip to the family’s lakeside cabin with them, a place where she’d spent the summers of her childhood.

It was beautiful to see her face glowing when she spoke about the girls with a lot of affection.

“And now you, Quinn. A childhood memory.”

He leant back, taking a sip of his wine, trying to come up with something to satisfy her which wasn't a complete lie.

“Not a lake, but going to the beach, swimming.”

“Where?”

“Here and there. Moved around a lot.”

“Philadelphia.”

“And Baltimore. Actually, more Baltimore than Philadelphia.”

“Siblings?”

“No.”

“Ever been to Paris before?”

“No. What is this, a polygraph interview?”

He tried a small smile to soften the blow, and poured Carrie another sip of wine, hoping to turn the conversation elsewhere after this short interruption.

But Carrie being Carrie was having none of it, of course not.

“Let's just say, I use a chance when I get one. Favorite food. And don't tell me it's Indian. I never saw you having indian food.”

She smiles, a beautiful and radiant smile with a challenging twinkle in her eyes, taking another sip of wine.

Quinn decides to play along.

“I’m easy to please. Some nice steak, green beans, potatoes.”

“Beer or wine?”

“With the food? Or in general?”

“Both.”

“I’m not caveman. I like wine with nice food,” a small not towards the dishes on their table, “but usually - a beer or whiskey.”

“Irish or scottish?”

“Irish.”

“I’ll make sure you get one after dinner.”

“And you? Favorite food?”

“I’m not much of a chef.”

“Me neither.”

“I do a good veggie lasagne. Mushrooms, bell peppers, tomatoes, courgettes or egg plants, bechamel and cheese. I even manage a to make a lump free bechamel.”

“Nobody manages that,” he knew he was provoking it but he liked to make her smile.

“I’ll prove you.”

“Is that an invitation?”, keeping the tone light, and then he was surprised by her answer.

“I guess it is”, she said quietly, still smiling, but somewhat surprised, “although you manipulated me into it.”

“I did”, he admitted, a small smile curling in the corners of his mouth.

Carrie paused and then got up, heading towards the toilets.

She was just a few steps away when Quinn felt his phone vibrating. 

Message from Max.

“Is it lasagna for two or am I invited as well?”

Before he could even decide whether to answer or not, he saw movement over at Javadi’s table. Carrie had to pass the table at an arm’s length distance, the restaurant was small and narrow,  
and Javadi raised his head just when she walked by.

_He can't make her. Wig, dress, makeup, he can't make her._

But still. 

Quinn rose and forced himself to amble casually to the narrow and surprisingly dark hallway leading to the restrooms, passing Javadi’s table just when Javadi moved his chair back and got up.

He hated to have the man behind his back, but forced himself to keep walking, just a normal dinner guest going to the bathroom.

Carrie stepped into the hallway just the moment he entered it, Javadi behind him.

If he saw her face from too close or heard her talking… he wasn't going to take that risk.

“Dove sei stata? Mi sei mancata,” was pretty much all Italian he had for that situation, not really fitting for a couple stumbling across each other in a restaurant's hallway leading to the toilets while sharing a meal at a table just a few steps away but good enough as cover.

Carrie looked at him, irritated and with a furrowed brow, attempting to step out of his shadow. He had no idea what Javadi did but he had to prevent Javadi seeing her from too close. And preventing Carrie from answering with an _what the fuck_.

So he took a step forward, reaching for her hand, hearing a impatient snort behind his back, and bent down, covering Carrie’s mouth with his.

He felt her stiffening, her hand went to his chest, probably in an attempt to push him away, but he didn't move away, his hand at her nape now.

Carrie was shocked. 

Quinn. His mouth on hers, soft and questioning, a warm hand at the juncture between her shoulder and her neck, a hint of cologne, a kiss which didn't stop, a moment of longing, the tip of his tongue at her lower lip, she herself parting her lips for him because she _wanted_ that kiss to go on, a soft sigh, a rush of endorphins, _I don't want to stop_ , Quinn’s frame blocking her view, _it's just a pretend game_ , but his hands are framing her face now and it's a pretty good kiss, no, for a restaurant hallway it's a great kiss, and she's responding to it, wanting him to go on, her arm around his neck now and-

“Excuse me. I hate to interrupt. But you're blocking my way. Let me pass and you can go on.”

Javadi’s voice. Laced with humor. Quinn's hand, back at her nape, pulled her face against his chest, he himself turned slightly but still blocked Javadi’s sight, offering a _Scusi. Mi dispiace._

 

(to be continued)


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quinn and Carrie are on Javadi's heels, and this takes them to a Paris icon. But the night offers some surprises.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this was Zeffy's birthday present and she had been asking for smut and fluff. One of the two I try to deliver here. 
> 
> About the rest - well, there's gonna be chapter 3 and maybe 4.

Javadi disappeared behind the door and Quinn let go of her, Carrie could still smell his scent, while she looked at that triangle of naked skin above his open shirt button, and then he stepped back, giving her way to walk back towards their table.

She looked up to his face but his eyes were scanning the hallway, checking if Javadi came back.

They sat at their table, the waiter poured more wine, the main course was served and still they hadn't said a single word.

But when Javadi came back from the toilets, crossing the dining room about ten yards away from their table, Carrie cocked her head, smiled lightly, cut a piece of her _tronçon de tourbot_ and raised her fork towards his lips.

"Sei il benvenuto al provarci," she smiled, watching him chew and swallow.

"He can't hear us and your Italian sucks," but she saw the small smile curling in the corners of mouth.

"You started...," she paused and looked at him for a long beat, "the Italian."

"You didn't...," he mimicked her pause, "object."

"I didn’t have much choice. May I try your _volaille fermière rôtie en cocotte_ and what are these thingies?"

" _Girolles_. I thought you are vegetarian."

"I recently adjusted my taste."

Quinn cut a piece of meat for her, thinking she liked to rattle his cage and finding himself unable to return to his usual demeanor towards her,  
dipped the bite into the lemon confit on his plate, and reached over the table to offer it to her.

"That's good. Tangy first and then surprisingly sweet. I like that."

"Yeah. Me too."

_Good God, listen to yourself._

"What do you think he's doing here?"

"Javadi?"

"The chef. God, Quinn, of course Javadi. Who else? That woman is no escort. Look at these."

She opened her purse and put her burner phone on the table. 

"Check the photo gallery. Pierre just sent me these."

The gallery had about fifteen photos, all showing Javadi with the woman he was having dinner with right now. Some were black and white and grainy, some were coloured and focused. The date stamps showed that they'd been taken over eight years.

"He's here to say goodbye. Or to ask her to join him," Carrie stated quietly.

Quinn understood. That moment, when a target suddenly became a human being, with dreams and wishes and ambitions beyond religious and political fanaticism, just pure and basic human character traits, that moment was always tough.

"Her name is Mehri Attar. Her family came here during the revolution. The very revolution which started Javadi's _career_."

"So she has no idea," Quinn replied flatly.

"She knows him as businessman. He's trading carpets, among other goods."

"So he won't take her with him."

"Probably not."

"So this is Goodbye."

Carrie just shrugged, suddenly busy with her peach and red currant dessert.

"Here is what I think," Quinn went back to her initial question, "you are right. He's here to say goodbye. And to harvest some favours. He's moving money. Big money. Probably setting up a new identity. Setting up a charade to cover his tracks. I wouldn't be too surprised if we'll get a scapegoat for the Langley bombing presented on a silver platter very soon, so that we stop looking for him."

"Why now?"

"The air got too thin. His ex wife and daughter in law know too much, now as he's shown his face again."

"So his fail in killing them probably set something in motion", Carrie finished his thought.

 

\-------------------

Javadi and Mehri left after they'd been outside for a while, watching Paris from above.

As soon as Javadi and the woman approached the elevator, one of bar keepers followed them and took the service elevator down to the Champ de Mars, the large square beneath the tower.

"Fuck me," Quinn uttered under his breath, then smiling at the waiter who swiped the credit card through the handheld device and jotting a sloppy signature on the receipt. He waited until the waiter had disappeared .

"They are on his heels. Let's just hope they don't throw a Hail Mary."

"He didn't noticed that he is under observation."

"Well, _we_ didn't notice he fucking is."

"You think the guy noticed us?"

"No."

They both rose from their chairs and Quinn took Carrie's scarf from the back of her chair and put it around her shoulders, surprised when Carrie went tippy toe and placed a short peck on his cheek.

"We're having a date, don't forget that. There might be another Iranian agent around."

He doubted that, and they didn't even know the guy was Iranian, honestly it could be Iraq or Israel or many other countries, the guy wasn't short of enemies that was for sure. And of allies who'd be afraid he would rat them out now as he was about to quit the game.

But when they waited for the elevator, two guests approached the platform, Quinn had seen them having dinner at a corner table, they gave a polite nod and stood next to them, several inches apart from each other, a little too far away for a couple who just enjoyed a romantic dinner in one of Paris's best restaurants.

_Coincidence or not. Hopefully we'll never know. But fuck._

Placing his arm around Carrie's shoulder, he pulled her close and kissed her temple,  
aware of her arm worming around his waist.

When he moved back a little she smiled sweetly and kept her arm where it was.

_She's good at this._

He saw the man looking at her, and who was he to blame them, she looked gorgeous.

Quinn silently cursed the fact that they hadn't been able to be on the elevator with Javadi but that risk was too big. Now they could just hope he'd make it to a taxi before they were downstairs and one of the chasers made him.

He saw that Carrie's mind was spinning, probably thinking the same, while she absentmindedly leant her head against his shoulder.

The elevator slowed down, and Carrie turned and pulled him a little closer, kissing his cheek, her perfume smelled like an early morning in a flower garden, dew, flowers, sun and a breeze.

"Max and one of Pierre’s guys follow him," she whispered, and then she placed a soft kiss on his mouth, and if he didn't knew better he'd think this was for real. 

_She is a master in this game. Did this probably before. Honey trap, Mata Hari, Norah Astorga, Romeo spies. Who would know better if not me._

But still that kiss lingered a brief second longer. 

So Javadi and Mehri were no longer their concern, at least not for now.

They stepped out of the elevator, deliberately giving the other couple ...

They watched them walking towards the taxis at Avenue de la Bourdounnais while they lingered under the iron construction, looking upwards and pretending to admire the structure while Quinn's arm was wrapped around Carrie's shoulder again, his finger tips feeling a little calloused on her bare arm.

"Let's check if they'll follow us," Quinn exhaled as soon as they were away far enough, "down to the river, let's mix in the crowd."

"Just wait a sec."

Carrie separated from him, opened her bag, apparently searching for something, and then she handed him a pair of soft leather ballet flats, and slipped out of her silver heels.

She was small now. Fragile even. He'd never considered her as fragile before. But he'd never seen her in a dress, sleeveless and all, and barefoot before.

Watching her slipping into her flats made him feel strangely uncomfortable.

"So," Carrie smiled, "I guess we'll stick with our cover, right?"

And with that, she looped her arm through his and made him amble towards the river banks with her. 

There had been a light drizzle earlier that afternoon, but now it was dry again, another beautiful summer night with plenty of people strolling along the river.

They heard voices in different languages, saw people laughing, chatting and drinking, some dog walkers, many couples, some larger groups of friends or tourists, musicians and artists offering their painting skills for instant portraits.

Quinn forced himself to weave in into the crowd, not to walk faster, but to stop here and there to admire the view, either holding hands with Carrie or having his arm placed around her shoulder.

Carrie spotted them when they stopped at the foot of the narrow passerelle crossing the Seine, pretending to watch an artist drawing a portrait of a woman and her dog.

The same couple as in the restaurant,  
walking along the river, his eyes scanning the crowd while she was talking to him rapidly.

They hadn't seen them yet, Carrie was sure of that, the woman was talking on phone now, and so she took Quinn's hand and pulled him in the shadows of the bridge's foundations.

"I'm sorry, it smells like a pissoir, some guys haven't been gentlemen here, but you may kiss me again."

And then she kissed him, sweet and soft, and just when he was about to catch up with the program, she broke the kiss and stepped back, not affected at all as it seemed.

"Turn around."

"Why?"

"Do as I say. C'mon, we have to hurry."

He did as he was told, hearing the rustle of fabric, Carrie cursing under her breath, and then the sound of a zipper being closed.

"And now you."

He turned back to her, surprised to see her in a blue dress now, with blonde hair.

"You had an extra dress in that bag?"

"No, one side's red, one blue. God, it was hot under that wig. Give me your jacket. And get rid of the contacts."

That took a few seconds and he was glad when they were gone.

"And now this...," Carrie stepped closer, very close, and before he knew what she was doing, she reached for the mustache and tore it away, "that's better. That was some poor man's Rhett Butler stache."

He had no idea why she was suddenly in such a good mood and focused on rolling his sleeves up.

"Let's get your shirt a little loose," and then her hands were pulling his shirt out of his pants, a brief second of skin contact, and then her hands were gone.

Overall they'd been down here less than three minutes, Quinn estimated.

"Should be fine now. Let's go. And Quinn? There's some lipstick on your face."

Carrie had been right. The couple was crossing the river via the bridge, reaching the opposite river bank just the moment they re-emerged from their hiding place, giving them the advantage of following their movement through the city now.

And even if they'd turn, they wouldn't make them as they were looking for a dark haired woman in a red dress and a man in a suit whereas now they looked like a couple on vacation, his shirt crumbled, Carrie's hair tousled, just her handbag was very full now with his jacket stuffed in.

So the risk of being observed and followed was zero now - and yet Carrie still took his hand.

They caught up with the couple, not close enough to hear them talk, but close enough to see them realizing that they'd lost their targets. Still they kept walking, they reached the western entrance of Jardin des Tuileries by now.

Carrie spoke on her phone with Max while they were moving, hearing that Javadi and Mehri had reached Mehri's apartment. 

"Max, we still think he's about to leave. We can't let that happen. I'll call Saul," and then a moment later, "I know this is off book, but if we allow Javadi to slip away after we had him on American soil-, yes, just make sure he's not going to the airport. And not snatched away by any hostile agency."

"That guy's certainly not short of enemies," Quinn muttered,  
more to himself than to Carrie.

 

Quinn listened to her conversation with Saul, she’d let go of his hand and was running her hand through her hair while talking, Saul apparently arguing with her decision to hunt Javadi on the other side of the globe. They reached a café closed down for the night, the tables and chairs still carrying some drops of the earlier rain, and Carrie leant against one of the tables while she was finishing her conversation with Saul.

“So you’d rather have him execute his fallback?”, she snapped and Quinn understood her anger.

_Christ, Saul, she fucking sacrificed herself for your chance to get this motherfucker and now you suddenly hesitate?_

Thinking of Javadi or his goons laying hands on Carrie still made him feel a hot surge of anger. Finding her cut nightgown in her bedroom - God, he’d been so afraid they had -

“Quinn. Quinn?”

“What?”

“Saul’s flying in. As long as our guy is not moving we don't do anything. He’ll be here in the morning.”

But Quinn’s eyes went to a spot behind her back, she saw his jaw clenching and then she heard steps approaching on the gravel, her heartbeat elevating. 

It was the couple from the restaurant.

Quinn was sure they wouldn't make them. Carrie was blonde now, her dress blue, different shoes. She hadn't mentioned Javadi's name on phone or in their conversation but still… that these two were walking down the very alley he and Carrie were right now didn't suit him at all.

He managed not to stare at them but let his eyes wander back to Carrie who still was leaning against that table, her eyes searching his to understand what was going on.

“Sit still,” he muttered, stepping closer so he covered her from being seen, his hand sliding under his shirt tails to reach for his weapon.

“No,” Carrie breathed, “too obvious.”

She raised and pulled him close, her arm around his nape, her lips on his, their bodies blocking the line of sight to the table and her handbag for the two people on the path now, he felt her reaching towards the bag, her lips still connected with his, and then he felt her pressing a revolver against his abdomen.

Quinn broke the kiss, his lips traveling along Carrie’s jawline now, he hated to expose her back to them, unprotected, but this is the only way he had a chance to get a clear visual field, pretending to nuzzle her neck, gazing over her shoulder, the soft click of the security switch, the gun still between them, a whispered “ _Get down when I say so_ ”, Carrie’s nod, barely perceptible, her hand on his back, her heart pounding against his chest, he needed them closer, first the man, then the woman- 

The couple stopped briefly at the crossroad about twenty yards away from them, took a turn to the left and disappeared between the bushes on the path leading to the exit.

“What? Quinn? What is is?”

“They left. They were looking for us. Couldn't find us and left.”

Quinn heard his own incredulous tone - and it _was_ fucking ridiculous. Here they were, dressing up like in a spy 101, and they literally crossed their path several times tonight and just didn't _see_ them.

He felt Carrie's huffed laugh more than he heard it, her slender torso still pressed against his chest, her gun in his right hand between them, cold metal pressed against warm flesh, and her lips suddenly grazing over the skin just above his shirt collar.

“Put that gun away,” she whispered, barely audible, adding the tip of her tongue, just a brief and elusive flicker.

“Carrie,” and he didn't know what he was going to say, and her arguments were far more convincing anyway.

The physical reaction after a threat wasn't unknown to him, it certainly wasn't, rush of endorphins, affirming life, fighting the demons, he’d done all that, it was so predictable it was almost ridiculous.

And yet - this here felt different, for a brief second, and that was why he gave in.

There was a tenderness he hadn't expect from her. For a moment, when he pulled back and looked at her, her eyes were soft and he saw a rawness and honesty he hadn't seen before.

The moment was gone when he leant in to kiss her. It was a demanding kiss, rough and urgent, the playfulness of their earlier kisses was gone, Carrie’s hands roaming over his back when he shoved his right up her ribcage, his hand large enough to cover half of her torso. She parted her lips for him, their tongues meeting, when he moved his hand to cover her breast, the softness of his touch opposing the heat of their kiss.

Carrie’s hand making her way into the back of his pants made him snap, his hand kneading her breast now greedily, his other hand supporting her nape, holding her steady as their kiss deepened.

He was hard against her crotch, Carrie rolling her hips telling him that she was aware of it, seeking the same pleasure for herself, her heart pounding under his hand, her nipple hard under the soft fabric of her dress.

There were only two ways how this would end: either stop it now or -

“Christ Carrie,” he gasped, feeling her small hand kneading his ass, moving deeper with each second, between his legs now, her fingertips touching his balls, her hips slowly rocking against his crotch.

“Tell me you don't want this, Quinn,” she panted against his lips, softly biting his lower lip, but the tone of her voice betraying her words - she _knew_ he wanted this, _her_ , and how could he not?

Cupping her ass with one hand, Quinn swiftly turned, taking Carrie with him, so he leant against a table now, Carrie between his legs, his hand kneading her gorgeous ass through the layers of fabric.

Carrie broke the kiss, her mouth leaving a hot trail on his neck, seeking and finding a spot of sensitive skin when she started sucking just above his collarbone, her fingers deftly opening three of his shirt buttons.

Her hand slipped back into his pants when she started grating her teeth over his nipple, and the jolt of violent pleasure almost tore him apart.

Slowly lifting her skirt just enough to move his hand under it, he felt the pattern of her breathing changing when his fingertips reached her underwear, the lacey fabric covering the perfectly formed buttocks.

Quinn stilled for a moment, both of his hands beneath her dress now, a last calculated moment of restraint to make her look up to him so he could kiss her again, feel her mouth on his, feel her breath hitching when he pressed her against his hardon and slowly moved her slip down.

One hand between her legs now, he felt her slightly adjusting her stance to give him room, making him smile against her lips.

“You really want this? Here?”, he managed to grind out, Carrie palming him through his pants not being a helpful distraction.

Feeling the vibration of Carrie’s soft moan against his mouth and against his chest when he dipped a finger inside her made him lose his last bit of restraint, and Carrie’s hands fumbling with his belt, shoving his pants down just wide enough to reach his cock made him feel a promising tingle at the base of his spine.

“There,” she breathed, looking towards a bench a few steps down the alley, half covered by thicket, and somehow they managed to get there, Quinn sitting down and pulling her into his lap, her legs straddling him.

A few urgent movements to arrange her dress around them, his tip grating her entrance, Carrie’s hand around his neck, his hands holding her ass, and then she lowered herself onto him, making him forget where they were.

She started shimmying her hips, just gradual movements, when his head was inside her, and the way Quinn bit his lip and looked at her, holding her gaze while they joined, made her smile.

“Carrie,” just this, just her name, and yet it felt - different.

When Quinn heaved his hips upward and pressed her down on him, she felt him sliding into her, all the way, starting to lift her up with his hands around her ass, her buttocks beneath his hands, and pushing her down again with each thrust.

Carrie arched her back, exposing her neck to him, her hands clenching into his shoulders, enjoying the momentary loss of control, the immense pleasure making her shiver and riding him faster, her mouth back on his now, kissing him and sucking his tongue into her mouth, moaning his name and losing herself in their urgent encounter.

“Carrie, God, Carrie”, Quinn’s voice was strained, Carrie heard him from far away, felt his hands guiding her, wanting him to make her come.

There was no way to prolong this, they both knew it, and with upping their cadence Quinn brought himself there, going into a blissful oblivion when he reached under her skirt, found her clit and rubbed it with firm strokes, making Carrie let a desperate whimper when she clenched around him and took him with her.

Carrie’s release was intense, and he savoured every second of it, feeling her body bucking in his arms now, his cock still buried deep inside her.

Breathing heavily, Quinn held her close now, her head buried against his chest, inhaling her scent, the warm humid summer air, feeling her wetness tight around him, each of her contractions releasing a pleasurable wave for him.

After a while she shifted, getting uncomfortable, and they parted, avoiding eye contact. 

Carrie got up and turned and so did Quinn, giving her some privacy to adjust her clothes.

He had no idea what to do or say. Just that he had to offer _something_ to avoid this turning into a disaster.

There she stood, her hair mussed, her lipstick gone, avoiding looking at him, her arms folded, the nightly humidity probably making her feel cold - and when she raised her head and their eyes met, he thought he saw it again, that brief moment of rawness.

“Enough undercover spy work for tonight?”, he aimed for a light tone, reaching for her shawl and placing it around her shoulders.

He wasn't prepared for the huge relief he felt when she briefly smiled at him and touched his hand for a second or two.

“What would an undercover spy do now?”

“On or off duty?”

“Is there ever an _off duty_?”

“It wouldn't matter anyway.”

“How so?”

“He’d offer to bring his date back home. Let's go.”

And with that, he offered a mock bow and his arm, glad when she looped her arm through his and chuckled, allowing him to lead her back to the main path, heading towards the opposite side of the large park, the ferris wheel, now closed for the night, looming above them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chapter 3 - the night after and the morning after what happened in the park.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Still for Zeffy’s birthday, the gift that keeps giving...

Back in his hotel room, Quinn poured himself a sip of whiskey, on a second thought making it a large sip, hearing Carrie walking over the creaking floor in her room.

She‘d kissed his cheek and had slipped into her room without any further word, and he was glad, because what was there left to say?

Turning to his bed, freshly made by the chambermaid, he nearly choked on his whiskey when he saw the scribbled note on his pillow - and what lay next to it.

_Fake date. Sure. I’m neither mute nor deaf. Please switch off the audio next time because listening to Javadi as well as you - **securing** the mission‘s success with Carrie - in less than 24 hours is just too much. I‘ll do the night shift at Javadi‘s, see you there at 6. Damn it, Quinn!_

That - and a box with condoms.

_Holy fuck._

Quinn downed the whiskey, considered one more but then headed for the bathroom, unable to process the implications of his and Carrie‘s dumb carelessness.

So Max knew now. Probably had thought they already did it before, given the looks he sometimes cast at him.

Dropping his clothes to the floor, Quinn stepped into the shower, turning it on, cold first, and then as hot as he could stand it, letting the water wash over his body, his fists against the wall, eyes closed, allowing himself a sweet moment of recalling tonight’s events.

_Fucking with Carrie in the Jardin des Tuileries._

——————-

Carrie sat on her bed, still feeling a sticky warmth between her legs, thinking she should probably take a shower. She‘d unclipped her audio wire, not noticing it was still switched to _on_.

Neither of them had said anything, and that felt strangely good because it had been different than the usual awkward aftermath of an urgent fuck. A comfortable silence.

This was Quinn, and they‘d go back to hunting Javadi first thing the next morning and he‘d have her back whatever might happen then. So no awkwardness on her side. Not at all.

She heard the water starting to run on the other side of the wall, imagining Quinn undressing and stepping under the spray.

He was a gorgeous man, slender albeit muscular, and she‘d felt his strength when he‘d pounded her on his lap tonight, just about an hour ago.

Recalling these moments felt good, a promising warmth spreading between her legs, _again_ , and within a fraction of a second Carrie made her decision, four steps to the connecting door, a few more to cross Quinn‘s room, and then through the door into his bathroom.

The clear glass of the shower door was steamed up, but seeing Quinn‘s bare silhouette from behind, taut buttocks, long legs, his muscular back, slightly bent forward, bracing himself against the wall - well, she was only made from flesh and blood, and if he wasn’t in for more he could tell her so.

Quinn heard the bathroom door latching and knew it was her, the pattern of her steps being so familiar he didn’t even flinch.

Although this was an _unusual_ situation.

So he turned, right in time to see her undoing her dress‘s bow and then opening it, revealing her curves just covered by lacy underwear now, and well aware that his cock told her probably that she didn’t need to fear a discussion about what’s appropriate behaviour with regard to a _colleague‘s_ privacy when sharing a connecting door. 

_God, Carrie._

She was fucking gorgeous and he loved her sassiness and confidence.

Carrie unclasped her bra, knowing he was watching her, lowered her panties and stepped out of them, and then she opened the door and glided under the spray, and he couldn’t help it but to admire her audacity.

„Outdoor sex is overrated,“ she smiled, wrapping an arm around his waist, „if you ask me.“

_She‘s fucking incredible._

And with that, his decision was made. And to be honest - it wasn’t that he was not obvious to read anyway. 

„You think so?“ he replied, pulling her against him, her body already feeling lithe and slick from the water running down her skin. „So this was so important to mention that you came over here?“

„Yes, exciting for obvious reasons but overrated.“

His hands were down at her hips, and then went around her buttocks, holding her with firm pressure, and Carrie was relieved. That he didn’t send her away, that he hadn’t laughed, and that her entrance didn’t result in a _Thanks, but no thanks_ but quite the opposite.

She didn’t want to think tonight. Nor did she want to forget and abandon herself, like she often did when searching for sexual pleasure. For once, she wanted to _feel_ and _be_.

Tilting her head upwards, she looked at him, thinking he was fucking beautiful, some droplets of water in his eyelashes, the corners of his eyes crinkled, and then she sought his mouth for a kiss, pleased when he went along with the program and didn’t spend any time with soft and playful kisses but lifted her up and pressed her against the wall, their kiss urgent and passionate.

Carrie felt him against her entrance, her legs wrapped around his waist allowing him access, but he just pressed his cock against the length of her slit and kissed her once more, deep and possessive.

„So a park fuck is overrated,“ he muttered, squeezing her ass, „tell me why, Carrie. Too fast? Too restrictive? Not enough of a game? Cause I liked it.“

One of his hands was palming her breast now, just with the right pressure to make her crave for more, and she liked hearing and feeling his voice, low and husky now, just above her ear.

„So how about this then?“ Quinn lowered her to stand on her legs again, indicating to her with a short squeeze to turn around, his mouth down to the curve of her neck and shoulder, his hands cupping her breasts, his body pushing her to take a step forward, and then one more. She was trapped between him and the wall now, Quinn‘s much larger frame behind her, his mouth consuming her skin.

She felt him hard against her ass and pressed herself back against him, pleased to feel him inhale sharply.

„Just for my clarification,“ his voice was strained, his thumb playing with her nipple, making her knees weaken, „are we just saving water or do we have a little more time?“

„What do you suggest?“ Carrie asked slightly out of breath already, bracing herself against the wall when one of his large hands slipped between her thighs, holding completely still then.

Carrie started rocking her hips, just short movements, pleasing herself against his palm, feeling his dick between her buttocks and then against her rim, adding a slight shimmy, a wave of arousal flooding through her.

„Fuck, Carrie. I-,“ and then she did it again and he finally started moving his fingers, giving her what she was craving.

„Me? I don’t have anywhere else to be tonight so-„

„Well then… I should have invited you for a nightcap, that’s what you’re saying?“

His fingers parted her folds while talking, finding her hood, circling it, slowly first, but then - taking her accelerated breathing as a cue - increasing the speed and intensity, his hardon pressed against her.

His other arm secured her around her waist, and Carrie allowed herself to let go and to surrender - to him, his touch, the sensations he gave her, and her desire to _be_ with him.

Her arm went up and around his neck, opening herself for Quinn, the hot water washing over their bodies, his fingers deftly working her center, bringing her closer with each lap, his mouth sucking the delicate skin of her neck, one hand coming up to play with her breast, and then he pushed a finger into her and then a second one, fucking her with his fingers now, making her come, his other hand coming up and clasping her mouth to muffle her moans.

„Fuck Carrie,“ he breathed a suppressed laugh, not stopping to move his fingers, his thumb flitting over her clit, enjoying to feel her buckle against his body, securely held by his arm, „and I thought this was just for starters.“

He was mesmerized when she started laughing, a sound so rare it went right through his core, and then he turned and lifted her up with one swift movement, shutting the water off with his elbow, while her mouth sought and found his, indulging in a kiss while he carried her over to his bed, her legs wrapped around his hips.

„And now?“, she whispered, deliberately shimmying her hips, causing welcome friction and a shiver of arousal.

„Now we‘ll do this again. No park, no outdoor, no secret enemies lurking around the next corner, just you and me and no one else and nowhere else to be until six - unless you have other plans.“

He dropped her backwards on his bed, letting himself fall between her legs, she was framed between his elbows, looking down on her face while he slowly moved into her, his eyes never leaving hers, feeling his orgasm coiling up at the base of his spine right away.

„Time, huh? You sure?“, Carrie smirked, taking over and tilting her hips upwards, making him groan.

„Faster, Quinn, please,“ she whispered when he managed to keep his pace slow for a moment longer, bending and moving her knees upwards, allowing him a deeper angle.

He hoisted himself upwards, his weight on his knees now, his hands holding her knees, and then he started fucking her in earnest, with long and fast thrusts,  
watching her biting her lower lip and throwing her head to one side, her hands gripping the bedsheets, her moans fueling his desire and arousal.

He managed to still for a moment, long enough for Carrie to wrap her legs around him and pull him close with her hands on his ass, her fingernails scraping his skin as her hands went up to his shoulders, clasping him hard.

„Now, Quinn,“ she breathed, tilting her head upwards to look at him, and he slammed himself into her with hard strokes, taking her, feeling his release, violent spasms jolting through his body, making him groan, her hands pressed into the sheets now, his fingers interlaced with hers.

She gasped his name, the only word which made sense, clenching around him, her orgasm less violent this time, an intense pleasure rippling through her core, his much larger body engulfing her while he filled her.

Carrie enjoyed how he lost control and was hers for this precious moment, yielding to her and what they shared, unguarded and so very him, intense and determined, with an underlying tenderness revealing a caring streak she hadn’t expected and wasn’t sure how to respond to — his desire for her and to please her every bit as surprising as her own longing to be with him.

Giving much softer thrusts every now and then, Quinn finally collapsed onto her body, their hands still connected when he slid a little further down, pulling out of her with a last pleased groan. His face buried in the curve of her neck, she felt his breath damp on her skin and his heartbeat pounding against her ribs, some remainders of their love making slowly trickling out of her, warm and sticky on her skin.

„Jesus fucking Christ, Carrie,“ was all he had, and even that took him a while, too content and satisfied to be able to consider moving or developing an exit strategy.

Considering the options available, he was happy with where he was and with whom he was with - and both of that happening at the same time was a very rare occurrence.

When Carrie wiggled, he rolled to her side, not ready to move away.

Her smile was bright and reached her eyes, and it was that which made him reach out and pull her in for another kiss, no agenda, just a kiss, muttering a _“How about staying right here?“_ against her lips.

It was out before he had time to evaluate it and the potential consequences, but before he could process that fact, she accepted his - was it an invitation? - and came to rest in his arm, her head lying in the crook of his elbow, his free hand caressing her upper arm.

„Let’s not talk about it,“ she said softly, and a few moments later, before he decided what to reply, she was asleep.

_Sleeping Carrie. In my bed. After we fucked. Twice._

He sighed and reached for his phone to set an alarm, seeing three messages had arrived.

_Max: Did you find my gift? And no, I won’t stop._

_Adal: Flying in. 600 local time. Location?_

_Saul: Peter, Max said you‘re in Paris too. I‘ll call you as soon as I am there. 600 local time._

_Well, that makes a carpool_ , he thought, darkly amused, his features relaxing when his eyes went back to the wave of blonde hair fanned out on one of the pillows.

So he set the alarm for 5 am, pressed a few keys, placed the phone back on the night stand, and rolled back to the sleeping form next to him, drifting away within mere moments as well.

——————-

Javadi didn‘t make himself seen for many hours but the lights in the large Haussmann apartment were switched on many hours into the night.

Max had managed to place transmitters in two rooms, so the intel he got was incomplete but enough to make him think.

At 2 am Mehri said she‘d go to bed, purring some words in a low voice then — a part of him glad he didn’t understand her. But Javadi declined and so Max watched a single silhouette walking over to the luxurious boudoir with the four postered bed, which had been a great hiding place for some of his little gadgets when he‘d been inside the apartment earlier that night.

He‘d bugged the landline too, chances were low anyone would use it but you never know.

His phone vibrated and he reached out for it, seeing a message on the lock screen.

_Saul and Dar flying in 600._

A static noise drew his attention to his audio screen, some green lines appearing, and the young french agent immediately turned the volume up.

It was a series of tones and clicks. An identification code, not CIA, but probably an intelligence apparatus.

_What else could it be? It’s not that adult people play hide and seek and use these for amusement._

What was unexpected though was that Javadi stood on the balcony, smoking, both hands visible.

And that the code came from the landline in Mehri‘s bedroom.

„Fuck me,“ Max muttered, „a Mata Hari.“

His mind went into operational mode, calculating the odds, evaluating probabilities, considering all they knew.

„I need a secure line.“

„We don’t have one here. It‘ll take me 15 minutes to get a code.“

„No rush.“

He considered calling Carrie but then decided to wait another hour or two.

Whatever Mehri Attari had set in motion wouldn’t happen here and now, too risky and too easy to be traced back to her, that he was sure of.

The young agent was on the phone now and scribbled down a sequence of numbers and pushed the piece of paper over to Max while he replayed the audio code, saving it as audio file, and then he forwarded it to his station.

Max dialed Saul‘s number, which was forwarded to his mailbox right away. Of course, he was already somewhere over the Atlantic.

So he called TTA, authorized himself and sent the audio file, being told he‘d get a reply within the next hour.

If his suspicion was true, Javadi had been played for years. 

———————-

Carrie woke up when it was still dark outside, maybe four am she thought, feeling the warm and steady presence of Quinn in her back, one of his hands splayed on her hip.

She waited for the first wave of awkwardness to hit her and to pass, but despite feeling a nervous tingle in her stomach, the big creepy moment didn’t happen.

Quinn‘s hand moved slightly, a warm pressure on her skin, and pulled her closer. Of course he woke up the second she stirred, and that thought made her chuckle.

„What?“, he mumbled, still sounding sleepy.

„I just thought there’s no way to sneak stealthily out of an black ops‘s bed.“

„As if you were any different,“ he quipped but making no effort to move or release her from his grip.

Carrie felt him getting a hard against her ass, moving her hips the slightest bit, hearing and feeling him sigh.

„How about we delay the protocol of appropriate awkwardness, followed by a hasty extraction plan which only leads to further embarrassment?“, Quinn suggested, and his _arguments_ were _convincing_.

He took her from behind, his whole body sheltering her, slow and almost careful, Carrie felt a pleasant soreness when he languorously entered her, bending her upper leg to allow him to advance further.

It was too slow and too tender for a morning after fuck, not only fueled by lust and want, but by something else Carrie couldn’t name.

But slowly canting her hips in countermotion to his, deep inside her now, his abdomen against her back, was the best way to start a new day full of spycraft uncertainty in a very long time.

They were silent, their breathing the only sound, finally really taking their time, his hand mapping her body, caressing her skin, gently kneading her breast, while Carrie reached back and circled her arm around his neck. 

It was only for the last thrusts that he finally pushed her to lie on her stomach, one of his legs between her thighs, restraining her range of movement with the bulk of his body, he stayed deep now, and Carrie felt her orgasm building up, she’d passed the point of no return, uninhibited pleasure starting its inevitable ascent.

She turned her head, his mouth on her cheek now, and then he kissed the corner of her mouth, his hands covering the back of her hands, she felt his breathing on her lips while she came.

Quinn‘s grip around her hands tightened and she felt his body tensing above her, he whispered her name with a low voice, and then he came too, and for a sweet moment they both forgot where they were - and why.

Afterwards they laid still, so very close, Quinn’s body molded into hers. Carrie felt his heartbeat against her back, and for a moment she wished they could just stay here, in this room, in bed, and drift away to sleep again.

But then he pulled back, Carrie winced for a brief second, making him lean in and kiss her cheek before he rose and sat on the edge of the bed, placing one hand on her shoulder.

It was hard to end the night like this, he wished he could extend these hours and allow themselves a few more hours of rest, but this was what they were and that hadn’t changed.

“Dar and Saul are flying in.”

“What time?”, Carrie asked, sitting up now too.

“Six,” Quinn reached for his watch and checked the time, “it’s four thirty now. Coffee?”

“Yes. Please.”

Quinn grabbed a t-shirt and boxer briefs, tossed another t-shirt to Carrie, and briefly disappeared into to the bathroom before he started the small coffee machine, giving Carrie a brief smile across the room.

Sitting on the mattress, they had their coffee, the night and what they’d shared still with them.

The moment of peace was broken when Quinn reached for his phone and saw Max’s message, sent less than an hour ago.

“Fuck me,” he muttered, and Carrie briefly felt the urge to laugh, _that’s what I just did_ , but then he looked at her and she knew they were back to work now.

“Mehri used a Mossad identification code at two this morning.”

“She’s Mossad?”, Carrie couldn’t hide the astonishment in her voice.

“Or an asset.”

“So either she’s been their eye on Javadi all these years,” Carrie picked up his train of thought, “or they brought her in at some point. What do you think?”

“She’s been their asset all these years. Just guessing. But if they had a genuine secret relationship why would she start _this_ a few years into it?”

“Betrayal. He fucked with her trust one too many. Remember the escorts the other night. That wasn’t the first time, no way it was. Or she learnt about his real identity. Her family had to flee the country.”

“So they contacted her. They have evidence, probably some photos from Evin prison.”

“You saw them?”

Quinn pursed his lips, wishing Carrie hadn’t seen them, briefly thinking of the night she had spent in that fucking maniac’s custody and what he’d do with him should he ever lay as much as an finger on her again. But that was their world, those were the lives they lived.

“Yes. I saw them. And more. He’s a piece of shit. She has every reason to rat him out.”

“I’ll go to the airport, brief Dar and Saul, you join Max. We can’t go in, we are not even officially here, for fuck’s sake, but if we manage to be on his heels when he’s at the airport-“

She didn’t finish her sentence but Quinn knew the wheels in her mind were clicking and turning now, he’d always loved to watch her working and thinking.

“-then we can take him out there. Make sure Saul’s got transportation ready.”

“Air?”

“Would be the best. Fast. But if we snatch him before security, we might need to leave via Germany.”

“Open borders. Five hours to Rammstein,” Carrie finished his thought.

“Risky. But possible. Better than an international crisis because we try to smuggle him knocked out through security. You think your contact can get us some propofol?”

“I’ll try. 300 mg per shot should do. When you go inside his apartment, try to find a fake passport. He’ll have some, I’m sure.”

“He’ll travel with a fake one anyway, but I’ll try to find a spare.”

Carrie rose and placed her mug on the nightstand, paused for a fraction of a second, but then left the room via the connecting door.

Still sitting on the corner of the mattress, Quinn ran a hand over his face and through his hair, trying to rub away the last shreds of tiredness.

He collected her dress from the bathroom while she was having a quick shower on her side of the wall and placed it on her bed, and then he opened his safe and got his holster, another ammunition clip and a spare gun.

 _Just another day of getting ready for work_ he thought bitterly.

Twenty minutes later he got out of a taxi, a block down from Javadi’s place, leaving Carrie to continue the trip to the airport, knowing she’d meet a contact there with the propofol and that she had his spare gun hidden under her jacket.

He called Max while walking down the block, letting him know he’d be there within minutes, being told to watch out for the green gardening service van.

“Gardening. In Paris’s city center,” he muttered when entering the back of the van, tossing a bag with a croissant to Max who sat inside with headphones on.

“Where’s Carrie?”

“Airport. Getting Saul and Dar and trying to prepare what might need to happen there.”

“Oh fuck,” Max rolled his eyes and buried his face in his open palms and it took Quinn a second to get that Max wasn’t reacting to his words but to whatever he heard over his headphones. 

“What?”

Max pulled the headphone’s plug from the socket, the sound from the apartment now filling the whole van.

Obviously, Javadi was awake, _very_ active, and apparently he was having a _very_ good time, given the perfervid groans and moans he made, smacking sounds underlying the crescendo. 

“God, I’d be pleased and will soon be begging on my knees for a day without audio porn,” Max provoked. “But you probably don’t mind, do you Quinn?”

Quinn decided to ignore the elephant in the room but just to comment on the fact, well aware of Max’s smirk.

“So a goodbye fuck. He’s really not taking her along. Any intel when he’ll leave?”

“He said 5.30.”

The sound pattern got louder and Quinn got more uncomfortable, casting a glance towards Max who met his gaze very un-Max with a long stare without breaking eye contact or looking away.

“Yeah, one of the unfortunate drawbacks of our job - having to listen into people fulfilling their primal needs.”

“Max, why don’t you just eat your croissant and try to get a team here for shadowing Javadi to the airport?”

“Uhm,” Max chewed and then swallowed, “damn, that’s good. Alain, the guy I spent the night with-“

“Max. Any confessions to make?”

“Why don’t you just eat your croissant and-“

Quinn raised his hands in mock defense, his expression softening when a smile curled the corners of his mouth.

“Fucking fine,” Max muttered, not trying to hide his own amusement, “So Alain, the surveillance guy from last night, made sure to _offer_ the limousine driver from the service Javadi booked a little break. So we’ll have audio in the car, and Alain behind the wheel.”

“A break? Tied up in the bathroom.”

“Precisely.” Max looked very pleased with himself.

“Good work. God, the motherfucker has stamina,” Quinn commented on the still present tapestry of sounds.

“Yeah, at least park -,” but then Max swallowed the rest of the sentence, because he suddenly remembered better not to tease a black ops agent too much.

Instead of that he inquired about the upcoming events. “So, that’s our plan? We take him out at the airport?”

“Not ideal. I know. But the best option available.”

“Who will do it?”

“Carrie. Propofol. We need him alive. Dar will take care of the Israelis - the airport will be a fucking spy hub, they’ll have at least three teams there - and Dar will want to have a word with that woman as well. You make sure she doesn’t disappear.”

“How do we get Javadi out of the country?”

“Carrie probably will have to act before he is past security, so via Germany then.”

“So we need a car ready at the terminal. I’ll take care of that.”

“Saul will go with him. You drive. I don’t want any Frenchies in the extraction.”

“Carrie and you clean up here?”

“I hope there won’t be any reason, but in case there is - yes,” Quinn nodded.

Suddenly the sound pattern changed. Silence. Longer silence. A strangled groan. Too long. 

Quinn was out of the van before Max could process what was happening.

“Get that fucking car here now.  
Make Alain call him, announce his limousine is here. Get an ambulance here. Backside of the building, no one enters before I give clear. Call Carrie, he’ll be early, she needs to have her ducks in line. Move.”

Quinn entered the building through the concierge's window, moving swiftly and faster than Max could place the first call, a cold stone sinking into his guts.

He’d hoped for a second entrance to the apartment — his prayers were heard, there was a door to the maid’s studio on the same floor, now probably empty or used as a storage room, but probably connected through a second door to the main apartment.

It was a corner building and he’d counted twelve windows, just one apartment on each floor, and he estimated the size would be about 2,600 square feet. Six or seven rooms probably, and if he was lucky he’d be able to play an element of surprise.

Two minutes later he was in, crossing the reception room with its shiny herringbone parquet, noticing the two suitcases next to the door.

Javadi’s bare back was turned to him, the man was wearing just pants, and he wished he could just hammer a bullet through his skull, well aware that they needed him alive.

But the woman wasn’t dead - not yet.

Javadi was tying her up, her mouth gagged and duct taped already, now he handcuffed her hands and arms around one bed poster. She was still naked, trying to kick Javadi, but he slapped her right into her face, making her wince and give a muffled wail through her gag.

Quinn stealthily took a few steps back into the hallway, disappearing behind a door into a dining room with a large table and twelve chairs.

 _Send Alain up. Now. Ring the doorbell and enter right away, calling out that he’ll take the luggage. Doors open. Hurry._

He hit the send button and waited, his ear at the door.

_Okay. He’s in._

Hearing the doorbell and a male voice speaking French, Quinn peaked through the door ajar, his gun with a silencer at the ready, hoping Javadi would buy into that mediocre improvisation.

When he heard Javadi speaking to Alain, he slid back into the bedroom, the women thoroughly tied to her bed, her knees bent, her legs wrapped with duct tape, her arms behind her body and around the bed, a revolver placed next to her on the bedspread.

_That motherfucker really has balls._

“No word, no sound. We’ve gotta be quick.”

Her cut her arms free, lifted her and swiftly moved her to the large walk-in closet which connected the two bedrooms. When they reached the other bedroom, he placed her in the en suite there, whispering again not to make a single sound.

Her legs were still tied and he handcuffed her to the drain pipe, throwing a towel over her for her to cover her nakedness.

It always had a strange moment of grim satisfaction when a target realized their cover was blown. Quinn had witnessed that moment many times, and he could pinpoint the second when the realization trickled in and paralyzed them, while they were calculating the odds, desperately trying to make sense of the situation and looking for a way out. And this was the mistake they all made, this was when they lost too much time - and this was why he had always survived: Making sense of a situation was never what had saved him. It was sheer will of survival and the ability to move on, to adjust without thinking, to keep going without a break. 

And for this here not to end in a blood splattering nightmare he needed Javadi to be the same. 

And he had been right. Javadi was an equal match.

Finding the master bedroom empty he didn’t lose any time to search for Mehri. He knew he was made, he knew Mehri had had help, he knew that meant an agent was probably still here and he knew his only chance to execute his extraction plan was moving fast, very fast.

So he didn’t look for her, didn’t check the other rooms, but just took a small bottle from a shelf, emptied its contents on the bed’s comforter, set the liquid on fire and left, taking a shirt and a jacket with him in one swift movement.

_Motherfucker._

Quinn used one of Javadi’s suits, _italian wool_ , to extinguish the fire, cursing under his breath because he hadn’t seen that move coming and because the smoke was burning in his eyes and lungs.

Max appeared in the hallway when Quinn had killed the fire and opened the window for some fresh air.

“He’s gone.”

“You called Carrie?”

“No. I didn’t. Because I have no idea what the fuck happened here.”

“Christ. She needs to know. There’s a woman in the bathroom. Her name is Mehri. Give her something to wear, and a glass of water, but don’t untie her, we have a lot of questions and don’t let her fuck with you.”

Quinn was already dialing Carrie, hoping to get hold of her before Javadi was there, but he saw Max entering the bathroom with a glass of water, then stopping on the threshold, turning his head to him.

“What’s with all the women getting naked when you’re around? Care to share?”, Max asked, genuinely shocked by the view he apparently had in that bathroom.

“What was that? Who’s naked? Max?” - Carrie’s voice from his phone.

“No. Just, listen Carrie,” he started and then quickly filled her in on what she needed to know, his voice calm and measured.

“I’ll come to Charles de Gaulle now. But I doubt I’ll be there in time. He’s dangerous Carrie. He knows he’s fucking burned, and that there is no way back. You gotta be quick. Amp up the dose. It’s his last chance and he’d kill to use it,” were his last words and then she pressed out that she had to go.

“He just entered the main hall. Bye Quinn.”

“Bye Carrie.” But she had already ended the call. 

So she was alone now.

Quinn told Max to wait for Dar and not to allow Mehri Attari - under no circumstances - to contact her handler or to even leave the bathroom. This was enough of a clusterfuck without the Israelis searching the apartment before Dar had a chance to talk to Mehri and then contact his Israeli contact.

He called Saul when leaving the large sandstone building, shocked when he heard that Saul and Dar hadn’t seen Carrie yet.

“She’s there. Javadi’s there. Fuck. Find her. He arrived,” he checked his watch, “six minutes ago. She saw him, just the second we finished our call.”

“Do we know which flight he’s booked on?”, Saul’s voice now, layered with the slightest bit of concern, “or the name he’s using?”

“He has several identities. Hushan Attari is my guess. But our intel is weak. He’ll go to the French West Indies, one of the Antilles islands. No visa issues. And from there to the Lesser Antilles. We found some hints. But Saul, we need to end this here. Once he’s through security, it’s gonna be very hard to get him.”

“It’s on Carrie.”

“It’s always on Carrie,” Quinn paused for a beat, feeling bitterness rising at the back of his tongue, “I’ll have a car ready. Germany, via Rammstein, is what I suggest.”

“Good. I’ll see you.”

——————-

Carrie followed Javadi through the airport’s round shaped terminal 1, cursing fate that Javadi’s flight wasn’t leaving from one of the other and more modern buildings.

She saw he was nervous, his eyes were scanning the crowd while he was waiting in the short queue for business class check in.

Her phone vibrated.

_Where are you?_

She texted her exact location back and saw a woman in her thirties looking up from her phone and coming into her direction. She didn’t make eye contact but opened her bag and got a small lipstick-sized item out. When she was just two steps away she tripped over her own feet and dropped her handbag, the content falling down in front of Carrie’s feet.

People didn’t pay attention, and the few who did looked elsewhere after a second. Carrie squatted down in an attempt to help the woman, picking up the lipstick and letting it disappear in her sleeve.

“Four vials. Two needles, go to the bathroom near exit 24,” the women breathed, and then louder, “thank you so much. I am such a clumsy creature. Thank you.”

They shared a brief smile and then the woman mixed with the crowd again, approaching Javadi from behind, a small bottle in her hand now.

Carrie crossed the round hall, hitting a few keys on her phone to let Saul and Quinn know where she was, hoping they’d be here in time. It took almost three long minutes before no one was either entering or leaving the bathroom and she could sneak into the men’s bathroom, locking herself in the first stall.

She was about to prepare the first syringe when she heard the door opening and a man cursing, a voice she was well familiar with. Cultivated, smooth, with a core of steel.

_Damn it. Where is Saul?_

“Wine. Red wine. _Sag bokonatet. Goh bebareh roo gahbret_ ,” the voice cursed, its owner approaching the sink when Carrie opened the door and stepped behind him, aiming for his neck with the syringe.

Javadi had no time to reach for his gun and yet he was fast enough to spin around and push her back against the wall, her head hit against the hand dryer, the needle penetrated the first layer of skin, Javadi reached for her larynx, she needed a better angle to press the full dose in, and she needed to get his hand away from her neck, she needed air, Javadi gurgled, his eyes bulged, but he kept pressing and it hurt, she felt warm blood at the back of her head,  
saw stars, her visual field fraying out from the corners, lack of oxygen, where was Saul, and Quinn, and she kept pressing the injection, dizziness, _keep pressing Mathison, come on_ , and then finally, fucking finally the door burst open, Saul, and Javadi doubled over and collapsed.

“Carrie. And now? How do we get him out of here? Quinn’s not here yet?”

She couldn’t speak, just felt her throat throbbing and her ears ringing, cold sweat on her face. 

Dar then. With an empty wheelchair. And Quinn, right behind Dar.

“Mathison, good work. Not ideal for extraction, but given the circumstances - beggars can’t be choosers, right? Mathison, you hear me?”

“Carrie?,” Quinn now, his face in front of hers. She saw him moving his lips and she thought she heard the words but it didn’t make sense. “Carrie. Look at me. Dar, keys, here. _Parking reservées au handicapés_ , exit 26, blue volvo,” he tossed Dar a set of keys.

“ _Handicapé_ is a fitting description I guess,” Dar chuckled and hoisted Javadi into the chair.

“Carrie. Look at me.”

Her eyes were wide open and she had some blood sticking in a strand of her hair.

“Carrie, I’ll look for the wound, stand still.”

He stood in front of her, blocking the door with his body, and his hand went to the back of her head,  
under her hair, he found the warm and moist spot, just a small cut. 

_Thank God._

“Wait.” Quinn reached for a paper towel, folded it and pressed in on the wound, his other hand holding her shoulder until he noticed she was trembling.

“Hey,” he squeezed her shoulder, the last night making it difficult to decide what would be the right thing to do now, “it’s done. _You_ did it. We have him tied up in the car outside. Five hours and his sorry ass will fly to an interrogation site somewhere in the US. Breathe, just breathe.”

And with that he pulled her forward, her forehead resting against his collarbone, relieved when she stiffened just for a second and the relaxed while he still firmly pressed the towel against her cut, his other arm around her back now, holding her until the trembling wore off.

“Keep breathing. Yes. In and out. Too fast Carrie, calm down. With me. In, one, two, three, and out, slowly, one, two, three. There. Again. One, two, three. And out. One, two, three.”

Carrie focused on her breathing, and finally she felt the oxygen returning to her brain again, then things came back into focus, she felt the fabric of Quinn’s shirt against her forehead, his hand at the back of her head, a dull pain lingering in her temples, Quinn breathing with her, she could smell his scent, familiar now, his voice calm and soothing, breathing helped.

_Javadi. We have him._

Quinn detached, his hands on her upper arms now, looking at her. 

“Okay now?”

She nodded.

“You’ve got a cut there. Doesn’t need stitches. Should be okay now. Any nausea? Look at me Carrie.”

“It’s not a concussion. I’m fine now.”

“Good. That was good work, Carrie.”

She looked at him, and he saw the tiniest of smiles before she inhaled deeply and turned to the door, pivoting out of his touch.

“You coming?”

“I’ll stay here. With Dar. There’s some loose ends to tie here,” Quinn said as they left the bathroom, which was blocked by a cleaning cart with a sign saying “out of order” - Dar’s work probably.

“Max is still with Mehri, waiting for backup,” Quinn went on as they approached the car in the parking bay, “and I am really curious about what the Israelis will say to enlighten us.”

“So I’ll see you stateside.”

“In a few days.”

“Bring my dress, will you?”

And with that, she turned and climbed into the passenger seat next to Saul.

“Nice work, Peter. But I’m really curious what you were doing here in the first place. Because I can’t remember telling you to come,” Dar’s voice, layered with sarcasm.

“I wanted to see the Mona Lisa.”

That made the old man chuckle, he’d always had a weak spot for flat jokes.

“And, did you see her and her mysterious smile?”

“I did.” _And she wasn’t even behind glass but very close._

“So, ready to pay a visit to our Israeli friends then? I’d like you to join me.”

——————

At the end of a long day they’d learnt that Mehri had been recruited three years back, and that she had been delivering valuable intel to the Mossad ever since then. Mehri herself refused to speak to them and Dar decided to leave her to the Israelis who picked her up late at night.

Two Mossad interrogation specialists would fly to the US the next day, having a word with Javadi themselves.

It was evening when Quinn stepped out of the Israeli embassy on Rue Rabelais, a small road tucked behind the Jardin de la Nouvelle France. It took him almost twenty minutes to obtain his weapons back and when he finally was allowed to leave, he knew he’d need some fresh air and a break before he’d be able to write his report, sleep or face Max or Dar again.

Dar was still in a meeting with the ambassador so he typed him a message to call him when he was available again, and then he walked into the night.

The large landscaped park was laid out parallel to the Champs Elysee and following the main alley would bring him to the Place de la Concorde, and from there he’d cross the Jardin des Tuileries to the hotel.

He walked about a mile at a brisk pace, passing couples, groups of friends and tourists like the nights before.

At the metro station Concorde he saw a kiosk which was still open, and following a sudden idea he bought himself a canned beer before he entered the jardin, walking more slowly now. He didn’t go to the café where they’d been the night before but sat on a bench near the ferris wheel, opened his beer and drank the first few sips, well aware he was overdue to ask himself some serious questions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I couldn’t have done without SNQA’s help and my friends supporting me. Thank you! ❤️


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Quite unexpectedly, certain circumstances bring Carrie back to Paris the evening after she left with Saul and Javadi to Germany. Quinn is still there and joins her for some surprises Javadi has prepared for Carrie, always having her back...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The gift that keeps giving... Zeffy is no longer here as much as she used to be but I promised to finish this story. Sorry that it took me so long! But - today is pinky's birthday and so this is the perfect day for posting: Happy Birthday, dear pinkys.
> 
> It took a while to find the inspiration but in January I met Laure and Ascloseasthis in Paris and we went to Cemetery Picpus which is exactly as I describe it in this chapter. And then I knew how to finish my story - rather bringing back Carrie to Paris than having chapter 4 set stateside.
> 
> So, dear Ascloseasthis thanks for taking Laure and me to Picpus, it’s a magical place.

Carrie was back to Paris the same evening.

She hadn’t expected that, but they‘d arrived at a Ramstein interrogation cell, Javadi had started talking.

A hail mary, and yet fucking smart. Carrie knew Saul was furious because he had underestimated his old friend once more.

Javadi had offered them a deal.

Thinking back to that conversation made her realize that one should never make the mistake to underestimate Mahjid Javadi. Saul should have known. 

_Of course_ Javadi had been prepared for a turn of events which would aim for preventing him from executing his exit plan. Yet neither Saul nor she herself had expected what he’d offered them.

Danesh Akbari on a silver platter. Evidence for Iran cheating during the negotiations for the nuclear agreement which was supposed to be signed this very fall.

The deal would mark arguably the most significant foreign policy achievement of the president’s tenure, amounting to the most significant agreement between Washington and Tehran since the 1979 Iranian revolution.

For the first time in nearly a decade, the Iran would halt the progress of the Iranian nuclear programme, and key parts of the programme would be rolled back. In return, the deal would release just over $4bn in Iranian oil sales revenue from frozen accounts, and suspend restrictions on the country's trade in gold, petrochemicals, car and plane parts.

In short - a first and huge step forward to a permanent settlement and rehabilitation of the Iran.

Just that Zarif, who had been negotiating with the US secretary of foreign affairs for almost three months now, had provided false evidence, at least per Javadi’s statement.

Javadi had promised them evidence for the ongoing construction of reprocessing plants that could produce plutonium.

And rather than shutting down more than half of its existing 16,000 centrifuges as inoperable, new centrifuges with enrichment capacity were being installed in large underground facilities.

Israel’s und the State’s disagreement about the deal was already causing a huge rift between the two countries. Thinking of what might spiral downward the moment a huge fraud from the Iranian side would be uncovered - Carrie’s mind had been in overdrive every single second since Javadi had slowly revealed some of his alleged knowledge.

Six countries were meant to sign the treaty which was negotiated solely by the US with the Iranians. 

“Why now?”, Saul had asked, challenging Javadi’s motivation. 

“Why not?”, he’d retorted, leaning back in is chair, “Does it really matter Saul? Whether you and I do this or someone else, it’s always gonna be a game of cat and mouse. A _perpetuum mobile_. An eternal rise and fall. Your country has been on the side of power for such a long time that you forget there actually were civilizations before you started mayflowering to the East. Through the ages, there’s always been change. And what we see these days are the undercurrents of fundamental changes. But do I need to be part of it? Does it change anything if it’s you or me or someone else? I’ve given my life to my country and to what I - _we_ \- believed in. But I won’t allow them to not grant me my reward. We are old men, Saul, and the world is changing. My country is changing. So I came to the conclusion that it’s time to leave the stage. And of course it had to be you - and your Carrie - who crossed my path. So I give you a triumph - and you’ll help me to execute my own plan in return.”

Carrie shivered when she remembered that scene. Javadi’s imperturbable composure, the conviction behind his words, and the way his eyes rested on Saul, his lids half closed...

And this was his request: Carrie was supposed to go back to Paris. Alone. Javadi would give her the locations once she was there. She’d collect the intel and come back. In less than 48 hours. That had been Saul’s demand. If there wasn’t enough intel to confirm Javadi’s words with hard facts, Javadi would be brought to the US. There was no way to delay either this or giving the Israelis access to Javadi. 

Javadi would spend these 48 hours in custody. He’d be able to call Carrie under Saul’s supervision. Apart from that, he wouldn’t be granted any other communication privileges.

“You know we have to keep this off-book until we know if there’s beef to the bone,” Saul had told her outside of the interrogation room, “no one can know this, Carrie, _no one_. Give me your phone.”

He’d handed her a burner phone then, and Carrie knew he expected her to pull this off alone. And she expected him to have her phone tracked and bugged.

———————

Sitting in the _Jardin de Tuileries_ Quinn watched the daylight fading and sipped his beer.

It felt like several days had passed since the last night and the events of this very day.

Knowing he couldn’t push the train of thought away anyway, his mind went back to seeing Carrie pivoting out of his touch in the airport bathroom after he’d stilled her bleeding.

_Marching back to war._

_Because that’s what it is. A war. And then another. And another._

And he’d let her go, back to dealing with Javadi, just days after he’d promised himself he’d never allow Javadi as much as lay eyes on Carrie without breaking his fingers, one by one.

And now she was sitting in a room with him, watching Saul trying to bring Javadi back into the game, to make him bend to his will, and to stop this operation from turning into a disaster.

There was no way, that Javadi had not made any precautions in case his exit plan got uncovered prematurely. 

_No fucking way. No fucking way. Damn it._

Whatever it was, Javadi still would have some cards up in his sleeve. For either side, whoever got him first, Javadi would have been prepared. 

Quinn fished for his phone, his thumb hovering for a second over the call button.

_Calling Carrie._

The first sentence would lay the groundwork for what lay ahead of them.

He wished he had more time to think.

What these hours had been, and what they meant to him. And to her. There’d been these moments-

The display of his phone indicated an incoming call. Unknown French number.

“Yeah.”

“Quinn. Thank God. Are you still here?”

“What’s _here_ , Carrie? Where are you?”

“Charles de Gaulle, taking a cab downtown now.”

“Why a burner?”

“Long story. Javadi is trying to fuck us.”

“Tell me something new.”

“If he didn’t lie it’s not too bad. Quite the opposite. I’ll tell you when I get there. Get a new burner and text me your number. I’ll get directions soon. Meet me there then.”

“Carrie, my phone’s clean.”

“Get a burner Quinn. Just - get one.”

Quinn knew she was right. And he didn’t like the fact that Javadi - grounded in a US army base interrogation room - was back to pulling the strings here.

“I’ll text you the number. Soon.”

“Good,” she paused for a beat, “and Quinn?”

“Yeah?”

“Nothing. I - I’ll see you soon.”

She called Saul then, and a minute later she had her first location.

_Cimetière de Picpus._

It wasn’t going to be a long taxi ride, the cemetery was located in the East of the inner city.

Night fell, and she didn’t like the idea of being a chess piece in Javadi’s - and Saul’s - game.

Her phone vibrated in her hand when the taxi pulled onto the highway leading from Charles de Gaulles southbound towards the inner city centre.

A text from an unknown number. Quinn. Who probably had bought the phone in one of the african or arabian  
shops that were open all night long.

She texted him where she was heading, and a minute later received a curt _Meet me at the car dealer opposite of the entrance_.

Leaning her head back against the headrest, Carrie was lost in thoughts for a few moments. Her mind went back to the early hours of the morning, waking up with Quinn, feeling him so close. It hadn’t felt awkward. It had felt - like a good place to be. And then the sex. The night before, of course, and in the early hours of dawn again. Feeling Quinn inside her, his movements against her body, his arms holding her - Carrie pursed her lips and opened her eyes again, only then realizing she had closed them.

_And now Paris again._

She checked a map of the cemetery and its surroundings and looked at a few photos.

She nearly had to cough when she saw which cemetery Javadi had chosen and whose grave was there. She tried to memorize the map and pondered which side would offer good access, as the main entrance would probably be closed.

But there was a school at the backside, with a large schoolyard, and from there they probably would be able to climb over the fence.

When she left the car, she saw Quinn standing about a hundred yards away, seemingly studying the announcements board of the department’s city hall.

He joined her when she walked past him,  
following her with a couple of yards distance, only closing the distance between them after they’d entered the school ground.

They met after they’d rounded the building, the cemetery already visible behind a large iron gate.

“Do you know where?”, Quinn asked, studying the grassy patch behind the gate.

“No. Not yet. But I have an inkling.”

“What?”

“What we see now is just the field with the mass grave of guillotine victims. The actual cemetery is down there, see the other gate? We can’t see it from here but the first grave on the left is Lafayette’s, star spangled banner and all.”

Quinn huffed a laugh.

“Javadi’s a motherfucker. But with chuzpe. But still I don’t like this.”

“Me neither. Something feels off,” Carrie admitted, scanning the perimeter around them.

“He’s securing his exit plan. That’s one possibility. The other one -“

“Is that he’s playing us. But how?”

“Remember the agents last night? Not the Mossad. The other pair. We never identified them. Let’s assume they were Iran. Let’s assume they were VEVAK. Let’s assume he knew or at least expects them to be here.”

“He might hope for them to find us while we are securing intel to turn a high rank Iranian officer. Whom we illegally _arrested_ on foreign soil, without any official involvement of DGSR here or BND in Germany,” Carrie spun his thought further.

“Yeah.”

“Fuck.”

Quinn just nodded, while retrieving a weapon from under his jacket which he handed to Carrie.

“No silencer. So only as very last retreat”, he warned her, “when you find whatever there’s to be found, go to the exit, it’s on the right at the far end. There’s a small park. Don’t turn left to the church, go straight. Opposite of that wall there’s a parking garage. That’s where the car is. If I am not near that wall, keep walking. There’s a metro station. Don’t go back to the hotel, there’s a chance they have someone waiting there. Keep moving. Get a new burner then to contact Saul.”

“I’ll see you Quinn.”

And with that she hoisted herself up to the top of the iron gate and landed with a soft _thud_ on the other side, disappearing into the dark then.

————————

Quinn left the school compound via a small path next to the janitor’s shed, waiting in the shadow to let a car pass he’d already seen twice when he’d been waiting for Carrie.

 _Fuck. At least they are not inside yet._.

The cemetery was tucked away from the street in a small park, surrounded by other buildings, the only official exit to the street lead through a large massive wood portal next to a medieval church, locked for the night now.

As frustrating as it was, Quinn only knew what a brief online check of a satellite map had told him, there hadn’t been enough time to scan the area closely.

But he had to make a decision. Instead of turning left - the shortest way to the parking garage at the Northern wall - he turned right and walked quickly along the quiet street, disappearing into the access road to the hospital bordering the Southern side of the cemetery. 

——————-

Carrie reached the American flag on Lafayette’s grave by climbing over a small fence, her mind racing to figure out what she was looking for. And where.

Following a sudden thought she started fingering the edge of the flag, feeling an unevenness after mere seconds. Carefully tearing the fabric open, she revealed a small key with an attached tag.

Turning around, she took in her surroundings. A small cemetery, shaped like a rectangle. A few old mausoleums and stone covered graves. A very small chapel at the outer left corner. The exit to the park at the outer right.

_And there could be waiting someone literally behind every stone._

But she had to switch on her phone to have enough light to read the keytag.

_Look for dead children._

It made her shiver. And angry.

Stepping back onto the small gravel path, she decided to start with the larger mausoleums surrounding Lafayette’s grave, hating the fact that she had to keep her phone switched on because she needed the light.

It was the fourth crypt she checked. Some 18th century aristocratic family‘s mausoleum. Seven children dying before their first birthday, some just lived for a day or two.

The lock for the small wooden door was new and opened easily.

——————————-

The roof of the small chapel was just inches away from the wall. Quinn pulled himself to lie flat on the roof, the whole building had less than a square footage of 60 square feet, he barely could accommodate the full length of his body on the roof.

He saw Carrie disappearing into the stone mausoleum, wishing she’d not used her phone as a torch.

He considered joining her but a sudden sound made him prefer staying in his elevated position.

_Chickens cackling._

And then he saw two shadows moving in the park. Maybe a third one standing near the entrance at the far end. And looking to the far right end, where the school was from where Carrie had entered the cemetery, he saw one more person checking the gate which separated the school ground from the grave field.

_____________________

The air was humid, cold and a little moldy. As soon as the door closed behind her it was even darker than before. When she switched on her phone, Carrie found a candle and a small box of matches on a stone table in the middle of the small room.

She placed her phone next to the candle and lit the candle, providing a flickering warm light then.

Seeing the camera in the upper left corner only then, opposite of the door, she inhaled deeply.

At least the camera‘s angle told her in which corner she had to search. But first she took a handkerchief from her purse and covered the lense of the wireless device, not even sure if it was transmitting a signal, and if so - to where?

One of the stones covering the graves - arranged like compartments in a shelf - looked newer than the others and didn’t close seamlessly with its frame.

Bending down, she fingered the rough surface. And there it was. A micro hard drive, smaller than a square inch.

Rising back on her feet, she noticed the lockscreen of her phone indicating a message.

_They are here. Hurry up. Follow the Southern wall, small chapel, tucked in the corner. NOW._

———————————

Quinn saw her reaching the outer wall just when the two persons were entering the compound, one from each side; he‘d be able to take them both out with a clean shot if he had a NVG. But he hadn’t and so he‘d need them closer.

Seeing her fumbling with the door for painfully long seconds, he assumed she’d been able to lock the door, which would give them a few valuable extra minutes as soon as they‘d manage to get away from here.

Carrie moved smoothly in the shadow of the stone mausoleums, once he saw the metallic reflection of her barrel.

The two agents had reached Lafayette’s grave now, he saw them talking and scanning the surroundings, the third one still searching the park and scaring the chickens.

_Moron._

Hearing a brief scratching sound beneath his feet, he knew Carrie was squeezing herself into the narrow space between the wall and the chapel.

_Thank God._

Slowly scooting backwards, he squeezed himself in the tight corner where the outer walls met in a ninety degree angle, knowing this would be the only space feasible to accommodate his body.

He landed right next to Carrie, the backs of their hands touching for a brief moment as Quinn adjusted his stance.

They didn’t speak but Carrie’s eyes rested on his face for a moment and she pulled a small device from her pocket, indicating her search had been successful.

The chapel was barely seven feet tall and wide but at least provided them cover when they turned back to back, each of them observing parts of the cemetery and especially both exits know, their guns hidden in the dark but at the ready.

They had to wait for almost an hour. It was after midnight when the search party decided they wouldn’t find what they were looking for and left through the school yard, not even casting a single glance _behind_ the small chapel.

They‘d been _inside_ the chapel though, causing Carrie to retreat backwards as soon as they‘d moved in her direction to enter the small building.

She‘d found herself standing against Quinn, his warmth a steady presence against her back.

And then they were gone.

Carrie sighed and turned, finding Quinn having difficulty moving in the narrow space, his shoulders were almost too broad to turn, but finally he stood next to the corner of the chapel, his back against the wall, looking down to her.

Well aware of how close they suddenly were, Carrie moved another inch forward,  
closing the distance between them completely, trapping him.

“Let’s wait a moment until they’re really gone,” she whispered.

It was Carrie who had to make the move, and he saw her smiling and tilting her head, enjoying that moment of tension - and he enjoyed it too.

Her hands went into his hair when she pulled him in for a kiss, just touching his lips with hers first, whispering _Always having my back, huh?_

“Literally,” her murmured, bringing his hand up to her neck and into her hair, starting to kiss her for real.

It wasn’t the right place, let alone the right time, and they both knew it, but it was a promising kiss, getting urgent and breathless quickly. The limited space made it impossible to get any closer but their hands were in each others hair, caressing the other’s face and neck, as they kissed, Carrie’s lips parted now, their tongues meeting, their breathing accelerated, both aware that they’d go further this night again.

Carrie broke away first, reluctantly moving backwards, but her hand went up to cover his hand, and then she slightly turned her head to kiss his palm.

“I have to call Saul. Making sure there’s not any other piece of evidence to be collected tonight. And we should get the micro drive to Max. I need him here first thing in the morning checking the camera in that crypt.”

She let go of his hand and slipped out to open ground, Quinn followed her, cursing under his breath when he got nearly stuck.

——————————

Almost an hour later they arrived in a nondescript motel somewhere East of Paris.

They’d met Max in a filling station and given him the micro drive. Max had checked out of their hotel rooms earlier today, and Quinn was impressed because this was now one less loose end which would allow anyone to track them down.

Max had given him a silent stare when Carrie had been using the bathroom and Quinn had decided not to react to that.

Neither to the muttered _Remember what I texted you._

Javadi would give her the next - and last, he’d said - location in the morning and so all they had to do now was wait. For Javadi, for Langley reading out and confirming the importance of the intel, for Max getting back to them about the camera and maybe some fingerprints telling them the origin of the three agents. 

Leaving the filling station’s parking lot next to the highway they hadn’t spoken but the way Carrie had brushed her fingers against the back of his hand had told him what he’d been hoping for.

So here they were now, in a cheap and anonymous place, paying for a room at that machine, Carrie laughing when he pretended to be hesitating whether to choose a double or two singles.

Her hand closed around his wrist and she went on her toes to kiss his ear as she brought his finger on the button.

“Choose whatever you want. I don’t need a bed to do what I have in mind.”

Two minutes later they were in their room on the upper floor, and he just hoped the rooms left and right of the thin walls would be empty.

With his hands already finding their way under her blouse he couldn’t resist challenging her.

“What did you have in mind? Cause I don’t mind a king size…“

“First I’d like a shower,” deft fingers unbuckling his belt, her innocent tone betraying her actions, “then I’d like some food,” he gasped when her hands went into the back of his briefs, “then I’d like to sleep, and you can take the couch, oh, and _maybe_ I’d like you to fuck me in the shower first. Or on that desk. But I don’t need a king size.”

Stripping her of the rest of her clothes he found her mouth for an urgent kiss, his hands started to map her body and he briefly considered lifting her up and having her on that desk right now.

“Your wish is my command,” he muttered against her lips, “shower first, then on that desk, _then_ I’ll get you some food - and after I’ll show you what a king size is made for. God, Carrie-“, his voice trailed off, her hand was closing around him when she pulled down his briefs with her other hand.

With one swift movement he gathered her in his arms and carried her over to the tiny bathroom, the shower cubicle made of cheap plastic and barely large enough to accommodate both of them.

The water started out cold, causing Carrie to squeak but he silenced her with a kiss, pressing her body against the wall.

His hands went around her buttocks, her body was lithe and slick now, and when he lifted her, she locked her legs around his waist, inviting him to enter her.

 

“Raise your arms,” he whispered, droplets of water in his eyelashes and looking so fucking beautiful that Carrie felt a surge of warmth she hadn’t known before.

She obeyed, and he wrapped his left hand around her wrists, supporting her body with his right hand under her ass, pinning her against the wall with his whole body.

There was no way for her to move, all she could do was accept him, waiting for him to enter her, she was craving to feel him, to have him take her and fuck her into oblivion.

Their eyes locked when he slowly lowered her down on his prick, the water warm and soothing now, and when she kissed him, her mouth open, he started to fuck her in earnest up against that wall, fast and short thrusts, her hands restrained in his large hand, his right squeezing her buttock.

She felt incredible. Her small body against his, the way her nipples rubbed against his skin, her pussy around him, her whimpers when he fucked her faster, finally his, for a precious moment completely at his mercy, kissing him violently, his mouth muffling her moans when she came and took him with her into blissful seconds in paradise, his buttocks contracting as he shot into her.

“I’ll take the bed now,” she quipped when he collapsed into her shoulder and released her hands, her arms closing around his shoulders right away, “fuck, Quinn, that was-“

“Yeah,” he breathed, still feeling himself twitching inside her as the last waves of his orgasm tapered off.

He carefully let her down but kept holding her, her head tucked under his chin now. Letting the warm water wash over them, they stood still, enjoying the afterglow of what they’d just shared.

A while later, wrapped in towels now, they fell on the thin starched sheets covering the bed, both huffing a laugh when the bed springs squeaked.

“Do we start all over again,” he kissed her, his hand opening her towel and searching for her breast, “or are you as hungry as I am?”

“Is that an invitation for dinner?”, Carrie asked, her eyes twinkling.

“ _You_ owe me dinner. Lasagna.”

He finally managed to get rid of the annoying terry cloth and bent down, kissing her nipple, softly first. But when Carrie sighed and shivered, he sucked it, more friction now, pleased when Carrie’s hand came up into his hair to keep him there.

“I usually pay my debts. But here’s no stove. So-“

“Well, I guess that makes you,” he raised on his knees after one last flick of his tongue over her nipple,”responsible for dessert.”

“Don’t look so smug”, Carrie laughed, placing a slap against his thigh, “feed me and I’ll make you beg before sunrise.”

“Deal.”

And with that, he was on his feet, searching for his pants.

Carrie watched him moving across the small room, her eyes resting on his ass for a long second, and then one more, when he slipped into his jeans.

“Don’t move an inch,” he bent over the bed and kissed her, first her mouth, then her shoulder, stealing a glimpse of her breast, “we’re not done here. I’ll be back in thirty minutes tops.”

It took him 24 minutes to come back with a bag from McDonalds and bad news. Or good news. But when he entered the room and found Carrie laying on the bed, in her briefs and her top, long naked legs crossed, the corners of her mouth curling upwards into a smile, he decided not to tell her right now.

They were awake now for over 20 hours, and many of these hours had been dedicated to spycraft, danger and the usual madness of their lives - and now they had another few hours together, and he was determined to use this time for- _for what?_

Quinn knew what he wanted. Being completely honest with himself for once, a few hours ago while he sat in the park, sipping his beer, had been painful but - a few moments later Carrie had called, and here they were now. And he would leave to Tehran before dawn.

They ate while sitting on the bed, and Carrie laughed when he told her to be careful because she would only end up hurting herself with every crumb that missed her lap and landed on the sheets.

 

„Well, that's only if you‘re on top. Be a gentleman, Quinn.“

She climbed in his lap after he’d collected the wrappers and empty cups, her hands busy with his buttons when he gathered her hair in one hand and lifted it to kiss the delicate skin below her earlobe.

“So dessert now,” she sighed.

“You bet.”

It wasn’t anything close to the urgent fuck under the shower right after they’d entered the room.

They took their time to undress and to explore each inch of the skin revealed, lips, tongues and hands exploring and granting pleasure.

Carrie knew he’d leave, she’d seen it in his eyes when he’d come back. And in a twisted way, Carrie being Carrie, it made it easier, knowing she wouldn’t have to deal with _this_ right away when they got back but that she’d have time to - _get used to it?_

She loved exploring his body, long and firm muscles, his fucking tight abdomen, the way he moaned when she sucked his nipples, his ass under her hands, the way he looked at her when she slid her hand around his balls and started gently massaging them.

Quinn felt her letting go of him, and reached out for her waist to keep her, making her lie down on top of him and close his mouth with a kiss.

“I wasn’t stopping,” she chuckled, canting her hips once in _just_ the right way, “don’t you worry.”

“Good. Cause…,” he sighed, slipping one hand around her ass and squeezing it, gently first, and then with firmer pressure, pressing Carrie against him.

Slowly and seductively Carrie slid downwards, her mouth leaving a hot trail on his skin, her tongue circling around his nipple, kisses along his sternum, his hand gathering her hair again, she loved that feeling, a teasing circle around his navel, and then her lips closed around his cock, slowly taking him all the way in.

“Fuck, Carrie-,” he groaned, tightening his grip into her hair.

She didn’t apply enough pressure, deliberately so, making it last, but seeing her, hollowed cheeks, her eyes large and dark looking up to him, directing her movements with his hand, was erotic as hell and an image to remember for a lifetime.

He knew that for the next ten days he’d think about _this_ every single second he could afford not to focus on the job ahead of him.

She took him in deep, swallowed around him and swirled her tongue upwards again on the way out, slowly and deliberately, turning him into a brain- and boneless mess, a finger slipping between his legs, teasing and finding the right spot, carefully grazing over sensitive skin, adding to the immense pleasure he felt.

“I should fuck you all night, again and again,” he pressed out, his hands around her torso now, pulling her upwards and kissing her deeply, tasting himself on her tongue.

Locking one hand at the back of her nape he turned her around with one swift movement, pinning her between his elbows now.

“You have me all night,” she smiled, one of her feet trailing up his leg before she locked her leg around his calf, “so if that’s the plan…”

She held his gaze as he slowly pushed into her, opening her body for him, letting him in once more, _wanting_ him.

Grazing a thumb over her nipple, seeing her artery pulsating under her milk white skin, he stilled for a moment, looking down right into her eyes, knowing his orgasm would be a spectacular one once he started moving and bringing himself to the point of no return.

„Actually,“ he whispered, his voice suddenly thick with all kinds of emotion, „ _this_ is so much better than fucking you senseless.“

They started to move slowly, Carrie’s body writhing beneath him, joining his every movement, giving in to his cadence, each thrust causing her whole body to feel like it was set on fire.

He ran his hand down her side, tucked it under her back, under her ass then and slightly lifted her, pressing her against his body, each time now slowly pushing all the way in to the hilt. Carrie met his thrusts, trailing her fingertips along his spine, her eyes locked with his.

Changing the depth of his movements just slightly to kiss and nuzzle her neck, his next stroke hit a spot that made her whole body clench. Eager to get the same reaction again, he dragged his hips back and forth in short strokes, feeling her shiver and buck beneath him, her whimpers the most erotic sound he‘d ever heard.

„Quinn, please, Quinn, don’t stop, don’t-,“ her voice trailed off and she canted her hips upwards in fast surges, making him lose his mind too.

His hand was still under her ass and she felt his fingers clenching into the soft flesh, owning her, holding her as he drove into her harder now, his breathing ragged, a soft sheen of sweat beneath her hand on his back.

Seeing Carrie unravelling was what took him over the edge. The way her face softened, her lips slightly parted, her eyes holding his gaze, her smile, the delicate curve of her neck. He felt his blood hammering, time drawing out, the knot at the base of his spine finally releasing and starting a violent jolt rushing through his body, taking everything away from him. Carrie‘s soft cry when his last and hard thrusts drew out her orgasm, making him slam himself into her once more, losing himself in her, her eyes ingressing right into his heart and soul.

When he finally stilled, they were both panting breathlessly, his hand still buried under her body, her legs wrapped around him, her hands on his ass, both of them lost for words.

Quinn‘s hand came up and he slowly stroked her face, smoothing a wet strand of hair away, giving her a small smile.

„God Carrie,“ he whispered, his voice shaking, and buried his face in the curve of her neck for a brief moment before he rolled to her side and came to lie flat on his back there.

They lay in silence, both shaken by what they couldn’t name.

But Quinn’s relief when he felt a small hand sliding against the back of his hand and closing around his fingers when he turned his hand was tremendous.

„When do you leave?“

Of course she knew.

„At five,“ he answered with a sigh, not ready yet to go back to business.

„Destination?“

„Tehran. Dar called me. There’s enough intel on the micro drive to get an operation running there to tie up some loose ends. Brief window of time. The intel‘s good, even if you don’t find the missing pieces, if there are any.“

He turned to look at her, propped up on an elbow now.

„Max will pick you up at seven. He‘ll bring a guy you can trust with whatever needs to get done here. Dar will go with you wherever you need him.“

That had been his condition, and the older man had accepted after a brief pause.

„When will you be back?“

Carrie knew he couldn’t tell her what he was going to do - or whom he was assigned to take out - but this felt like a safe question to ask.

„A week, ten days tops. The window will close soon.“

There was a moment of silence which hung between them, and Quinn knew he could get up now, get ready and leave. 

They‘d be back to working together on this case, or any other operation in the future, and without doubt he‘d trust her with his life - and protect her with his own - any given day.

Which would be the easy choice.

Or he could at least try.

„Hey,“ Carrie whispered, cupping his cheek in an oddly tender gesture.

_Choice made._

The corners of his eyes crinkled when he smiled and bent down to her to kiss her once more, soft and tender now, but a long kiss, leading to Carrie being curled up in his arms when they final parted.

Two and a half hours later he had to leave. They didn’t leave the bed, but spent their few hours together right there, Carrie fell asleep for about an hour and Quinn breathed deliberately shallow to not wake her up.

He made love to her once more right before he had to go, too tired to feel embarrassed by his desire for her when he reached around her waist and spooned her from behind, pulling her in into a close embrace against his body.

„I want you,“ he simply breathed, grazing a kiss on her temple and scissoring her leg forward with his knee to enter her from behind when she whispered _then take me_.

It was a slow and tender fuck, and the thought of leaving her behind within mere minutes fueled all kinds of emotions he had.

Afterwards, he got up, had a shower and sat on the edge of the thin mattress.

„You think you‘ll get some more sleep?“

Carrie shrugged, turning on her side then.

„Maybe. You?“

„On the plane. I gotta go.“

„I know.“

And yet he didn’t move.

Finally, he bent down and kissed her shoulder, before he rose and walked towards the door.

 

———————————-

 

_Nine Days Later_

It was a clusterfuck. A fucking paper chase. Two more days, three more locations, two of them a fake, one with real intel.

But it was enough to establish that Javadi wasn’t lying. Which was good because it saved them from major intelligence and political issues; bad because it caused a whole new set of issues. One being the question of where to place Javadi, who would most likely rat out the entire deal the minute he was forced back into Iran.

Carrie saw the results of Quinn’s work, or at least she assumed it was his work when the intel came in.

A risky set of operations, seemingly unconnected - but of course she saw the pattern even before Adal filled her in - in a very short window of time, and yet a success.

_Definitely Quinn._

It was Friday night, almost midnight, when Carrie woke up with a start, hearing her doorbell ringing. She‘d been dozing off on the couch while channel hopping through the news.

She opened the door and there he was, apparently fresh out of the shower, his hair still wet, a small fresh cut from a razor blade on his chin, a large paper bag with a enchanting smell in his hand.

„You don’t believe me when I say I can make lasagna, right?“

Quinn shrugged, the relief her teasing tone caused visible in his face.

„I just thought, without giving you prior notice, I‘d better arrive here with no expectations. But I‘m hungry as fuck, and so-,“ he shrugged again and offered her the bag as he stepped over the threshold.

„No expectations, I see,“ Carrie quipped, carrying the food to the kitchen counter.

„How about I‘m responsible for dessert again? That worked quite well the last time, didn’t it?“

She turned around and tilted her head upwards to look at him, a mischievous smile, and - God he didn’t even know what to say.

„This is the part where you should kiss me, Quinn. The guy offered dinner, the girl took the cue, invited him to stay, offered _dessert_... you know, your turn now...“

She laughed when he picked her up and lifted her, placing her on the kitchen counter, his hips between her knees. And she still laughed when she framed his face with her hands and met him for a kiss. 

„I‘d like to negotiate breakfast,“ he quipped breathlessly a few minutes later.

„Deal. But not before tomorrow morning“, Carrie replied, pulling her shirt over her head and throwing it into the general direction of the food bag, letting out a small sob when his mouth closed around her nipple, „no more food porn now, just…oh fuck, Quinn…“

(And the lasagna had to be reheated at around 3 am - just in case you were wondering.)

THE END

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is Lafayette’s grave on Cemetery Picpus in Paris:  
> 
> 
>  
> 
> Season 7 brings mixed emotions for many of us, but I still find a lot of joy and comfort in writing these fics and discussing them with my friends. And again I couldn’t have finished this one without the support of SNQA and Uponthewire - thank you ladies, our collaboration is much fun!
> 
> And finally - Zeffy ordered fluff and smut. It’s less fluffy than I thought it would be, but I guess I fulfilled the order.
> 
> Writing a spyplot is much harder (for me at least) than a domestic setting but I had much fun plotting this story and I hope you have fun reading it.
> 
> They would have been great together.
> 
> And now - what’s next? Any requests to which AU you want me to return?


End file.
